


Early Hours

by Cardgamesonmotorcycles



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Angst, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Drug Dealing, Drugging, Emetophobia, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Kidnapping, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mentioned/Implied Rape, Physical Abuse, Rescue Missions, Shooting, Smoking, Suicide Attempt, Therapy, Underage Drinking, Vomiting, getting shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-02-08 06:43:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 28
Words: 121,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1930605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cardgamesonmotorcycles/pseuds/Cardgamesonmotorcycles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every night at 1AM Ryou watched Bakura sneak out, every morning it would not be spoken of. Until the morning when Ryou went to the bathroom and found the sink splattered with red, and pinkish water in the bottom of the shower. It almost looked like...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings- Mentions of abuse/injuries

The red LED display on the battered alarm clock clicked over to 1am and, like clockwork, small noises came to Ryou’s listening ears. A door clicks and the sound of light footsteps pad down the hallway, pausing outside Ryou’s door.

Ryou breathed loudly and deeply, pretending to be asleep. The thief must have been satisfied with this, as his stealthy feet trod almost silently down the normally creaky wooden stairs. Though now retired, he still had all the traits of a master thief. Ryou strained his ears to listen to him leave, the back door closed with barely any sound and Ryou got out of bed to peek at the figure in the yard through his curtains.

The figure always snuck out at 1am, when the night was at it’s darkest. The moon was covered in cloud and Ryou could barely make out the figures features, shoulder length white hair seemed to almost glow through the blackness, illuminating the mans face. Sharp features, deep crimson eyes and a permanent smirk. The figure rooted through the pockets of it’s long black trench coat, pulling out a packet of cigarettes and a moment later a shiny gold lighter.

The figure removed a single creamy white tube from the packet, placing the rest back in his pocket. He placed the cigarette between his lips almost delicately, then moved the lighter towards the unlit tip, the lighter roared into life, highlighting his figures in greater detail. A blue and white striped t-shirt under the long black trench coat, which had the collar pulled up, framing the mans face. Grey jeans and black converse finished the outfit. A shiny gold necklace rested around the mans slender neck, an Egyptian eye, surrounded by a circle of gold which had five sharp golden points hanging from it. The Millennium ring.

The cigarette was lit, smoke already lingering in the air, and the lighter put out, back into its pocket. The Thief took one last look around the yard then strode off quickly into the night, jumping a low fence that divided the small yard from the alleyway behind.

Ryou sighed and closed the curtains, climbing back into bed. He was used to this by now, at first he hadn’t noticed, but he remembered the first time he had seen Bakura leaving.

* * *

 

Ryou’s sleep was broken by a small noise from under his window. He groggily slid upright in his bed and opened his curtains slightly, allowing the light of the moon to shine into the small room. He groaned at the brightness and squinted through sore eyes at the yard below. He could see a figure he recognised leaning against one of the walls, smoking a cigarette. Ryou’s face screwed up in disgust, he hated smoking. But he was grateful Bakura wasn’t doing it in the house like he used to.

Ryou watched Bakura with interest, noting how he held his cigarette, how his slender fingers moved to tap off the ash that collected on the tip. Noticing the deeply relaxed look after every drag, the way his eyes would shut momentarily as he inhaled and the way his entire body seemed to relax as the cigarette grew smaller. Ryou smiled as he watched the Thief, despite how much he hated smoking, he had to admit it suited Bakura.

Ryou glanced away from the sight for a moment, checking the time on his alarm clock, just after 1am. Ryou raised his eyebrows in surprise, it wasn't out of the ordninary for Bakura to be up in the small hours, but to be fully dressed as if about to go out was a different matter. Ryou focused his gaze back to the small yard, which was now deserted.

The only sign Bakura had been there was a lightly glowing cigarette stub lying on the cracked concrete ground. Ryou’s brow furrowed in confusion, he hadn’t heard the back door close again, so he couldn’t be in the house. Where had he gone?  
Ryou yawned deeply, and decided it was too late to be solving mysteries. He got back into his warm bed, promising he’d ask Bakura in the morning.

* * *

 

Ryou put down his toast and looked up at Bakura, who was leaning against a counter in his pyjamas, which consisted of a bare chest and a pair of low-riding sweatpants.  
“Bakura?”  
“Mm?” The Thief turned round, slender white fingers wrapped around a mug of coffee.  
“Where did you go last night?”  
Bakuras eyes flashed red and Ryou began to tremble.  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about Yadonushi.” Bakura replied casually, taking another mouthful of his coffee, black, no sugar.  
“I saw..” Ryou began, but a glance from Bakura was enough to silence him, the threat lingering in those cold eyes was enough to terrify him.  
Bakura raised an eyebrow as Ryou ‘s voice trailed away. He smirked cruelly, drained the rest of his coffee and dumped the mug in the sink where it landed with a clang. It was probably chipped but Bakura didn’t care, he stalked out of the kitchen to get his cigarettes from his room.  
“But I know I saw-“ Ryou began muttering to himself.  
“I think you’ve been imagining things Yadonushi.” The voice came from right behind Ryou, so close to his ear that he could feel Bakura’s breath.  
Ryou knew Bakura was waiting for him to agree, disagreeing would be.. well, let’s just say he still had the scars.  
“Yes, I must have been dreaming.” Ryou said, voice shaking.  
“Good baka.” Bakura said, straightening up and ruffling Ryou’s hair, chuckling when the boy flinched away, brown eyes full of fear.

* * *

 

It had continued like that for a couple of weeks. Every night Ryou would watch Bakura sneak out, every morning it would not be spoken of.  
Until the morning when Ryou went to the bathroom to have a shower and found the sink was splattered with red, and there was pinkish water in the bottom of the shower. It almost looked like...  
“Bakura?” Ryou called, his dislike for his tormentor not overriding the worry that he could be injured.  
“What?” The voice called coldly from the bottom of the stairs.  
Ryou left the bathroom and ran down the stairs to Bakura, who stood in his usual sweatpants, drinking his morning coffee. The only difference was that today there was a large bandage wrapped round his bare torso, which was already speckled with crimson. Bakura raised his eye in amusement at his hosts wide eyed stare.  
“Bakura.. how did you do this?” Ryou spoke up, looking into the eyes of his darker half, which were calm and unconcerned.  
“I must have fallen out of bed.” Bakura’s smirk grew as he took another mouthful of his coffee.  
Ryou rolled his eyes, knowing he wouldn’t get a straight answer. He lifted his hand out to touch the bandage. The second his hand connected with the soft cotton he heard a mug shatter on the tile floor and his hand was savagely torn away by Bakura. Ryou whimpered at how tightly he was being gripped, Bakuras nails were digging into his soft white flesh, leaving deep marks.  
“I’ve told you before baka, don’t touch me.” Bakuras grip tightened and he spat his words like they were acid.  
Ryou whimpered and writhed in Bakura’s grip, trying to free himself.  
“Yami, please, it hurts.” Ryou begged, hating himself for how pathetic he sounded, for giving in so easily.  
“I don’t think I will, Hikari.” he hissed, voice laced with contempt as he spat the last word. “I think you need to learn to keep your mouth shut and your hands to yourself.”  
Ryous eyes grew wider as Bakura loomed over him, eyes mad with anger and sadistic pleasure as he gripped Ryou’s wrist more firmly.  
“Please Bakura! Please! Let me go!” Ryous eyes filled with tears as Bakura twisted his wrist around to an unnatural angle. Ryou cried out in pain and Bakura smiled, showing his sharp feline teeth.  
“I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet.” Bakura growled, giving Ryou’s wrist one last, brutal twist, laughing as the bone snapped and Ryou screamed, tears leaking down his face.  
“Now baka, what did I teach you today?” Bakura asked, sadistic gleam still in hs eyes.  
Ryou’s breath came in shaky gasps, the pain was making him lightheaded and he barely heard Bakura’s question.  
A fist smashed into his cheek, knocking him to the ground where he huddled up into a protective ball, cradling his broken wrist and gasping for much needed oxygen.  
“Answer me!” Bakura shouted, aiming kicks at Ryou’s legs, arms, back.  
Ryou trembled and cried out as every kick resonated through his already weak and damaged body.  
Bakura tired of kicking the boy and grabbed him by the neck of his jumper, holding him so his feet were dangling above the ground. Cruel red orbs met terrified soft brown. Bakura moved the boy closer to him, so their noses were almost touching.  
“Please.” Ryou sobbed.  
“Answer the question and I’ll let you go.”  
“I need to keep my mouth shut and my hands to myself.” Ryou answered, voice shaking.  
“Good yadonushi.” Bakura replied, mad look leaving his eyes he dropped Ryou, already disinterested, causing the younger boy to cry out again as he landed heavily on the hard floor. “Now clean up this mess.”  
He aimed one more kick at Ryou, who squirmed to avoid it, earning a chuckle from Bakura who pulled on a hoodie and walked out of the house, slamming the door behind him, leaving Ryou to tend his injuries the best he could and hope Bakura would be in a better mood when he returned.


	2. Chapter 2

Ryou shut his eyes as his door swung slowly open, a beam of pale light slicing through the room and leading to his bed. Ryou heard soft breathing and footsteps approaching the end of his bed and tried not to tremble. Maybe if he pretended to be asleep he’d leave. Ryou sensed the figure move round the bed until it stood directly above him, blocking out the light from the hallway beyond. A sudden weight beside him on the bed made his heart race in terror. Ryou squeezed his eyes shut more tightly, hiding his scared expression behind his white hair, which fell over his face, tickling his nose. A hand suddenly brushed across his forehead, moving the hair away. Surprised by the gentle movement, Ryou’s breath hitched in his throat in a sort of strangled gasp, something that the keen-eared Thief did not ignore.

“Go back to sleep Yadonushi.” The hand was quickly removed from his hair, the cold voice cutting the air like a knife.

Ryou’s eyes flickered open at the cruel, unfeeling words. He blinked up at Bakura, pulling the sheets around him protectively, swollen wrist held close to his rapidly thudding heart.

“What- What do you want Bakura?”

The Thiefs eyebrows raised at being addressed so bravely, almost angrily, despite the clear fear in the boys eyes.

“I just came to check you hadn’t bled to death or something. That would be...” The Thief paused to consider his words. “most unfortunate.” His eyes gleamed red and he chuckled at the terrified look on the smaller boys face.

He rose from the bed and turned to leave the room. Pausing in the doorway, hand on the doorknob, he turned back to face Ryou, face twisted in contempt.

“How did I end up with a Hikari as worthless as you? Even the Pharaohs brat isn’t as pathetic.” His tone was cruel and mocking, the words spat out like something disgusting. He swung the door shut behind him, leaving Ryou to cry in the dark, body throbbing.

* * *

 

**‘Yadonushi.. please’**

Ryou woke up with a cry of surprise. Looking around the room nervously, wondering where Bakura was hiding and what he was going to do.

**‘Yadonushi.. help’**

Ryou realised suddenly that Bakura was using the mind link, something he hadn’t done for several months, ever since he discovered it meant Ryou could hear his thoughts. He had begun blocking it soon after, and Ryou had followed suit, not wanting his mind to be invaded. It was shortly after that the beatings began. At first it was just a punch or two for being late, or forgetting to cook Bakura’s steak. But over time it escalated, once Bakura had even pushed him down the stairs, Ryou’s side twinged as he remembered the pain when one of his ribs had broken and torn through his soft skin. He had broken more bones than he could remember, made more excuses than he would have liked, and lost too may friends because of him.

He hated him.

**‘Please’**

The voice was weaker now, Ryou could sense Bakuras barriers breaking down, he could feel small waves of pain and even, fear? Ryou began to feel worried, Bakura was never afraid. Ryou was the weak one, the one who was scared of everything.

_‘Bakura?’_

**‘Please, help me’**

Ryou paused, wondering if this could be some sort of elaborate trick, a way of Bakura reestablishing his power over him. But a sudden sharp wave of pain from the mind link removed any doubtful thoughts. ‘Stay where you are, I’m coming’ Ryou leapt out of bed, grabbing a hoodie and pulling it over his t-shirt, he pulled on a pair of trainers and set off into the night.

* * *

 

Using the newly opened mind link Ryou ran through the streets towards the alley where he knew Bakura lay. The wind drove the sharp rain into his face and within minutes he was freezing cold and soaked to the skin. But still he ran. The waves of pain coming through the mind link drove him on. As he reached the part of town where he knew Bakura was, he grew nervous. The pain was coming through the link constantly now, and the fear was more frequent too. Wherever Bakura was, he was seriously injured. Ryou paused to check the mind link, pinpointing Bakura’s location then turned left sharply, down a narrow alley, lit by one weak yellow light. The alley was a dead end, blocked off by a high brick wall that Ryou doubted even Bakura could climb. Ryou’s footsteps slowed as he walked down the seemingly deserted alley, whatever had hurt Bakura could still be here somewhere.

“Bakura?” Ryou called, voice small and scared, almost drowned out by the pouring rain and savage winds.

 **‘Bin’** Bakura’s voice was almost impossible to hear, but with that one word Ryou knew where to find him.

Where the alley ended there were two large metal bins, next to each other. Ryou approached them nervously, afraid of what he might find. He could see a hunched up figure leaning between them, white hair and pale skin glowing in the semi-darkness.

“Bakura!” Ryou exclaimed, straining to shove one of the heavy bins aside to illuminate the Thief.

Ryou gasped at what he saw. Bakura’s usually snow white hair was matted with blood, there was a cut down one cheek and blood had clotted on his face, dripping down his chin.

“Bakura?” Ryou’s voice shook as he reached a trembling hand towards the Thiefs coat, which was wrapped tightly around his body. He pulled it loose, igniting a fresh wave of pain through the mind link. Ryou gently shushed Bakura as he lent in to see. His t-shirt was soaked in blood. Ryou gasped, eyes wide in horror.

“Bakura.. I need to lift your t-shirt, I need to know how bad it is.”

The only response was a small nod, Bakura seemed to be swaying in and out of consciousness.

Ryou grasped the hem of Bakura’s t-shirt in his hands, then, carefully pulled it up. An agonised cry escaped Bakura’s mouth and pain shot through the mind link, so strong that it almost over-balanced Ryou.

“I’m sorry Bakura, I have to see.”

The Thief didn't reply, having fallen unconscious again.

Ryou took one look at the deep, oozing gash that ran from Bakura’s heart down to his stomach and ripped his phone out of his pocket, frantically dialing 999.

* * *

 

“Emergency surgery.... Critical condition..... Blood transfusion....” Words filtered through Ryou’s mind, but he couldn’t focus on what the doctor was saying to him, he was terrified. When the ambulance had arrived the paramedics had exchanged a look before putting Bakura in the ambulance, putting the sirens on and racing to the hospital, ignoring red lights. The whole journey had been a blur to Ryou, who could do nothing but stare at Bakura’s limp frame as the paramedics frantically worked on him. He was certain that at one point Bakura’s heart had stopped, but he wasn’t even sure.

“Ryou?” The doctors concerned voice broke through his foggy mind.

“Huh?”

“Your friend’s condition is very serious, we haven’t been able to gauge the full extent of his injuries yet but he needs an emergency blood transfusion, he’s in surgery right now. His chances of survival are slim. Does he have any family you want us to contact?”

Ryou shook his head, the words echoing through his mind. Bakura couldn’t die. He was the Thief King, he was invincible.

“He doesn’t have any family.” Just me, he added silently, and he was barely more than a punch bag, let alone family.

The doctor nodded, rested a reassuring hand on Ryou’s arm and guided him to a chair, where he all but collapsed.

“We’ll keep you updated.”

“Thank you.” Ryou managed to say, but his voice was flat and lifeless. Ryou lost count of how many hours he sat there, getting odd looks from doctors and patients. His top was covered in blood, it was splashed on his sweatpants, and when he went to the bathroom later he noticed it was flecked on his face, a harsh contrast to his ivory white skin and hair. It was then he was sick, messily into the white porcalain sink under the painfully unnatural lighting, stomach heaving and retching even when it was empty. The image of Bakura, usually so hard and strong, whimpering in pain and covered in blood, barely able to move was stuck in his mind.

It was wrong, so wrong.

Ryou must have fallen asleep on the hard plastic chair, because the next thing he knew he was being gently shaken awake by a smiling nurse.

“Good news, your friend pulled through, he’s in the ICU but you should be allowed in to see him in a couple of hours.”

Ryou looked up at the smiling face of the nurse, and allowed himself a small, trembling smile.

“Thankyou.”

“You’re welcome sweetie, I’ll come and get you when you’re okay to see him.”

Ryou nodded his thanks, waited until she had gone, then burst into tears, not caring about the people all around him.

Bakura was okay, he was alive.


	3. Chapter 3

Ryou followed the nurse through a maze of identical corridors, scent of chemicals and blood making his stomach churn almost more than the fear and nervousness that had settled into a heavy ball in the pit of his stomach.

Ryous eyes lifted from his feet as he noticed the red line he and the nurse seemed to be following. Red reminded him of blood. Bakura’s blood, which was still splashed on his face and clothes.

Ryou swallowed hard against a wave of nausea that rose in his throat.

“Nearly there now.” The nurse smiled kindly back, forehead furrowed in concern for the pale, sickly looking boy who trailed after her.

Ryou was too nervous and queasy to respond and instead glanced at his surroundings as he walked through a noisy, chaotic ward marked ‘Accident and Emergency.’ On one bed doctors frantically administered CPR to a little girl in a yellow dress while her parents sobbed and wailed nearby. On another two solemn faced nurses lifted a sheet to cover the face of a young man, his blood instantly staining the pure white sheets.

Ryou recognised with a jolt the bed that Bakura had been on as the doctors had fought to stop his bleeding before he was rushed into surgery. Congealed red blood still covered the beds rumpled sheets and a small puddle of it lay on the floor where it had trickled down a pale white arm and dripped stickily to the ground. Ryou shivered and wrapped his arms around his small frame, whimpering slightly as he hurried past.

More and more identical winding corridors, til the pair finally reached a pair of swing doors marked ‘Intensive care unit.’ The ward was long, each side lined with occupied beds.

“He’s in the bed at the very far left, will you be okay by yourself?” The nurse asked, smiling apologetically.

“Yes. Thank you.” Was all Ryou managed to croak out. The nurse gave him one last worried look then swept out of the ward, back to her duties, leaving Ryou alone.

Ryou swallowed and began walking through the middle of the ward, avoiding looking at the patients who he walked past. The halogen lights hurt Ryou’s sleep deprived eyes and his blood covered trainers squeaked on the floor. A blue curtain had been pulled around the bed the nurse had pointed out, and Ryou stood in front of it for a moment, gathering his nerves and trying not to cry. Bakura didn’t like it when he cried.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and pulled the curtain aside slightly, stepping in and closing it behind himself. His eyes immediately flashed to the figure lying in the bed. His skin was deathly pale, and his white hair was still matted with blood, a stark contrast to the white sheets. His eyes were shut and his chest rose and fell evenly. His hospital gown had fallen off one shoulder and Ryou could just see a mass of bandages wrapped around his torso. Ryou walked shakily closer to the bed, legs feeling like lead. Bakura’s usually flawless face was marred by a line of ugly black stitches that held together the cut on his cheek. Ryous legs trembled and he sank into a chair next to the bed, watching the mass of machines as they beeped and hummed. He found his eyes focusing on his heart monitor, watching as the spikes travelled across the red line in a regular, reassuring pattern. The beeps of the machines and noise of the ward slowly drifted away as he was lulled to sleep under the dull glow of the machines keeping Bakura alive.

* * *

 

**‘Ryou?’**

A surprised voice filtered through Ryou’s head and woke him up. He opened his eyes slowly, wincing at the artificial light and rubbing them with the heels of his palms. For a minute he looked around him in confusion, then he suddenly remembered where he was and bolted upright in the chair. His eyes locked with Bakura’s, who raised an eyebrow at Ryou’s dishevelled, panicked appearance.

“Oh my God Bakura I fell asleep I’m so sorry I should have been awake!” Ryou babbled, eyes wide in alarm as he looked down at Bakuras amused face.

 **‘Calm down Yadonushi, it’s fine.’** Bakura’s face twisted into it’s usual smirk for a moment, before he winced in pain and raised a shaking hand to his face, running his fingers along the stitches. The mind link was still not fully blocked and Ryou could hear Bakura’s thoughts of pain, fear and, strangely, concern. Ryou’s wide brown eyes scanned Bakura’s face, blinking rapidly to try and prevent himself from crying. Bakura didn’t like him crying.

**‘How long have I been here?’**

Ryou checked the watch on his wrist, 5.34AM.

_‘Nearly 26 hours.’_

Bakura nodded slowly, careful not to move too much and risk opening his wounds.

 **‘Help me sit up.’** It was an order, but Ryou was used to those.

_‘Shouldn’t we get a nurse?’_

Bakuras dark look was his only answer, and Ryou sighed and helped Bakura as he slowly shuffled upright in the bed, adjusting the pillows behind him so he’d be comfortable.

 **‘Have you been here the whole time?’** There it was again, that strange concern that flickered through Bakura’s thoughts.

Ryou nodded.

 **‘You should have left after you rang the ambulance.’** Bakuras voice was bitter and Ryou looked up in shock, unable to say anything. **‘In fact I was surprised you came at all.’**

_‘You were in pain.’_

Bakura shrugged nonchalantly. **‘I’m surprised you cared.’**

Ryou’s face grew angry. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

 **‘It means, Yadonushi. That leaving me to die would have benefited you more than saving me.’** His voice was cold, unfeeling.

 _‘How exactly?’_ Ryou’s voice was shaking and he could feel tears welling in his eyes. How could Bakura be so ungrateful?

Bakura scoffed quietly. **‘Don’t act so innocent. You know full well what I mean.’** Images of various beatings ran through Bakura’s mind into Ryou’s, who winced at the sudden barrage of painful memories.

 **‘The amount of times I hurt you Ryou, yet you still came for me.’** Bakura’s eyes were wide with disbelief, but his mind was bitter and suspicious.

Ryou shrugged. _‘You would have done the same for me.’_

Bakura chuckled at this, deep voice sending shivers down Ryous spine. **‘I think we both know that’s not true Yadonushi. Shall we list the things I’ve done to you? The reasons to not save me?’**

Ryou didn’t respond, he just stared at a speck of blood on his left trainer.

“Two broken ribs, one that punctured your skin. A broken wrist. That time I carved into your arm with a dagger. Those scars from the points on the millennium ring. Those burns on your back from my cigarettes. I stabbed you and you didn’t stop bleeding for hours. When I pushed you down the stairs you got concussion. I’ve beaten you til you lost consciousness so many times I can’t remember. You are always covered in bruises. When you begged me to stop, it just made me hurt you more. When you cry it lets me know I’m doing a good job. That I’m teaching you a lesson.”

Ryou stared up at Bakura, eyes filling with tears.

“I deserved it. Like you said, you were teaching me a lesson.” Ryou’s eyes were dead, cold, devoid of all emotion, yet they leaked tears.

Bakura’s eyes narrowed in anger and he reached out and grabbed Ryou’s wrist angrily, ignoring Ryou’s wince.

“Do you remember how I taught you not to cry?”

Ryou didn’t answer, just allowed the tears to fall down his cheeks.

“Do you remember?” Bakura’s thoughts were a mess of anger, hate and disgust and Ryou wanted to dissapear. “I didn’t let you eat for three days. By the end you were begging me for food. Begging, grovelling like a dog. So what did I do?” At this Bakura yanked up Ryous sleeve, revealing a series of deep scars. “I cut you open, threatened you. Told you if you ever cried I’d do it again.”

Ryou’s eyes widened in alarm and he tried to pull his arm away from Bakura, tears glistening on his cheeks.

“Do you know why I didn’t want you to cry?”

“Because it’s weak and pathetic and you’re sick of having such a puny hikari.” Ryou recited easily.

Bakura’s grip loosened and his thoughts swam with shock and disgust.

**‘No.’**

Ryou looked up as Bakura released his wrist, eyes running over the angry red nail marks his grip had left.

**‘I didn’t want you to cry because I knew it was my fault. I knew I was the reason you cried. And I hated that. I hate it when you cry. I hate it. Because I don’t know how to make you stop. So I threaten you, and I hurt you, thinking that maybe if you hate me, you’ll be angry instead of sad. But it doesn’t work, you get that hurt puppy look. And I hate that too. So I have to beat it away. But still you don’t hate me. Why? I’ve given you every reason to hate me. But you just don’t. Or are you just stupid and believe you can change me?’**

Ryou’s eyes locked with Bakura’s and the tears ran down his cheeks even faster, wetting his blood stained t-shirt and leaving salty trails. Ryou shook his head. _‘I can’t hate you for giving me what I deserve.’_

Bakura growled angrily and grabbed Ryou’s chin, turning his head to face him. **‘How can you say that? How can you say you deserve it?’**

_‘Because that’s what you taught me. And if I forget what you teach me, you hurt me again.’_

Bakuras thoughts went scarily blank.

Then.

**‘Get. Out.’**

_‘What? Bakura..’_

**‘I said get out.’**

_‘But, why?’_

**‘Because I said so, do you remember how I taught you to listen? A broken rib and two weeks off school I believe.’**

Ryou swallowed and stood from the chair. The threat providing the incentive he needed to leave. He didn’t look back before he opened the curtains and walked through the ward, tears still running thick and fast down his face. If he had he might have seen the tears glittering in Bakura’s crimson eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

Ryou walked through the hospitals dimly lit hallways, quiet at this late hour. He eventually found himself outside in a small courtyard, a fountain made calm splashing noises and the cool night air soothed him. He sat down on a bench and placed his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes so that yellow spots flashed in his vision. He groaned loudly and tried not to think of Bakura. Easier said than done. Ryou was annoyed. Annoyed with Bakura. Annoyed with himself. He curled up into a ball on the bench and a dry choked sob escaped his lips. Bakura was right. He really was pathetic. He sat there alone in the cold air and thought about all Bakura had done for him. Done to him more like. The memories of the various beatings ran through his head, but the pain was not what he remembered most, it was Bakura’s expression. Angry, disgusted, hateful. The way he’d push him away afterwards, wiping his hands on his jeans, as if Ryou were contaminated and he couldn't stand to touch him. That was what upset Ryou most. He didn't really have friends. Not since Bakura put them into comas or scared them away. Even if he did have friends, he would barely see them. Ryou missed lots of school, Bakura was never too careful where he struck and often Ryou’s face told a different story to his mouth. Ryou had begun to run out of excuses, the teachers growing more suspicious with every absence. Ryou sighed and stood up, pacing back and forward in front of the bench, winding a lock of white hair around one finger as he tried to work out what to do. Bakura had told him to get out. But Ryou wasn't sure if he meant the room, or the hospital, or his entire life. He was sure Bakura wouldn't miss him if he just disappeared. Nobody would. He sunk to the ground and curled into a ball, hugging his knees close to him, tears racking his slender frame.

“Ryou?” A concerned voice came from the doorway into the hospital and Ryou looked up, drying his eyes on his already damp sleeve.

Tired brown eyes met worried honey and immediately looked away, ashamed.

“What’cha doing here Ryou?”

“Bakura got attacked.” But Ryou was unsure, he didn't actually know what had happened.

There was a sharp intake of air from the other boy and he walked over to Ryou, placing an arm around his shoulders comfortingly and rubbing warmth into his cold back.

“Why don’t’cha come inside, it’s freezing out here.”

Ryou nodded and sniffed, allowing Joey to pull him upright and lead him inside. Joey led him through the corridors to the virtually deserted cafeteria, a woman sat behind the counter reading a magazine and sipping on a mug of something hot.

“How long have ya been here Ryou?” Joey asked.

“I don’t remember...” Ryou’s head felt fuzzy, the humming of the drinks machines was giving him a headache and the artificial light made it difficult to sense time going by. He felt he could have been there years.

“Have ya eaten anythin’?”

Ryou shook his head. “I’m gettin’ ya sumthin to eat then, and a hot drink, you’re freezin’.”

Ryou tried to object, but a violent shiver racked his body and he simply nodded up at Joey.

Joey smiled and placed a hand on Ryou’s shoulder, “Go sit down and I’ll be back in a minute okay?”

Ryou nodded and walked away unsteadily, virtually collapsing into a wooden chair in a corner and resting his head on the table. He felt drained, despite how much he’d slept. His stomach gave an unhappy rumble and he realized how hungry he was. He heard a gentle chuckle behind him and turned to see Joey carrying a tray with two boxed sandwiched, two polystyrene cups and two cakes sealed in plastic. He sat down opposite Ryou and placed the tray in front of them.

“Dig in.” He smiled, passing Ryou his sandwich and drink.

Egg salad, peach tea. Two of his favorites. Ryou allowed a small smile to grace his face.

“Thanks Joey.”

Joey just waved his thanks away, taking a bite of his own sandwich.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Ryou eating hungrily and sipping his tea, feeling his muscles relax and his body slowly warm up.

“What are you doing here Joey?”

“I was visitin’ my sister, she’s in surgery now. It’s a pretty long operation but I promised her I’d stay until she wakes up.” Joey gave a small smile but Ryou could see the worry in his eyes.

Ryou nodded. “I’m sure she’ll be fine Joey.”

Joey smiled, “So what happened with Bakura?”

Ryou sighed, and relayed the entire story to Joey, who listened in a mixture of horror, concern and anger.

“Ryou, I’m so sorry. None of us knew. We just thought you were ill a lot. I mean we knew Bakura wasn't all that nice but we never imagined he’d do anything like that!”

Ryou just gave a small, cruel smile and drained the rest of his tea.

Joey gave Ryou one last pitying look and glanced down at his watch.

“Awh crap! It’s 7AM! They said she’d be out of surgery by now! I’m really sorry Ryou I gotta go. I’ll come to the ICU and check on you later okay?”

Ryou nodded. “It’s fine Joey. I hope your sister’s okay.”

“Thanks Ryou!” Joey yelled back as he practically ran from the cafeteria.

Ryou sighed heavily and rested his head on the table. He hated being pitied. He sat there until 7.30 watching the cafeteria get busy, not sure what to do. Not wanting to go home, not wanting to stay. In the end he decided to go to the ICU and ask the nurses how Bakura was doing. Then he’d go home. Honest.

* * *

 

“Excuse me, are you Bakura Ryou?” A smiling nurse with pretty blonde curls stopped Ryou as he made his way to Bakuras bed.

“Yes, is something wrong?” Ryou played with his sleeve nervously, his mind instantly imagining worse case scenarios.

“Oh no, quite the opposite in fact. I just checked on your friend, he’s doing well, he’s not losing any more blood and he’s managing to stay conscious. Of course he’ll need to stay in for a week or so to be monitored, but it’s looking good.” The nurse smiled at the relief on Ryou’s face as he let out an audible sigh and felt tears well in his eyes once again.

“Thank you.” He smiled up at the nurse, words sincere and heart felt.

“Just doing my job,” her face changed to one of concern, “are you okay? You've been here since he came in haven’t you?”

Ryou nodded, noticing the nurses blue eyes flicker to the blood on his clothes, the bags under his eyes and his unusually messy hair.

“Is there anyone you’d like to ring? Family maybe?”

Ryou shook his head, “No thanks, I think I’ll stay with him a bit longer.”

The nurse didn't look too happy with his answer, but managed a small smile and rested a kindly hand on his shoulder, “If there’s anything you need don’t hesitate to ask Ryou.”

Ryou managed a small smile and a nod of thanks, before the nurse turned to make her way to the nurses station. Ryou watched her walk away, silently thanking Ra and all the other Gods for keeping Bakura safe.

Once he reached the curtain around Bakura’s bed he paused, hand resting nervously on the fabric.

 **‘Ryou?’** Bakura’s voice sounded in Ryou’s head, hesitant, nervous.

 _‘Don’t call me that.’_ Bitter, angry. Nothing like Ryou.

There was a tense pause.

 **‘I’m sorry.’** Ryou pulled the curtain open angrily, tearing it shut behind him and striding to the bed.

_‘What?’_

**‘I.. I’m sorry.’**

Bakura’s face was nervous, he was playing with the hem of the sheet on his bed and he was avoiding looking at Ryou. There were trails down his cheeks where tears had fallen and his eyes were red and puffy. He looked so unlike himself that Ryou began to laugh, quietly at first, a low chuckle, but it soon turned into full scale laughter. Ryou bent double, clutching the end of the bed for support, gasping for breath, laughing like a maniac. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the shock finally setting in. But Ryou didn’t think he’d ever heard anything in his life as funny as Bakura, the proud Thief King of Kul Elna apologizing. To him of all people! His pathetic, worthless, puny Yadonushi.

“Ryou?” The voice was timid, no doubt unnerved by his manic laughter.

Ryou whirled upright, laughter ceasing with Bakura’s voice to be replaced with pure rage. “I said not to call me that!”

Bakura actively flinched and Ryou smirked. A Bakura smirk. Any fear he had felt towards Bakura had faded. The boy lying in the bed in front of him was truly broken, defenseless. Now Ryou finally saw who the pathetic one was. His smirk grew. 

“You called, oh great Thief King?”

Bakura’s face twisted into a disgusted scowl at Ryou’s sarcastic tone. “You came back Yadonushi.” Bakuras eyes glittered with malice, words dripping off his tongue like honey.

Ryou moved closer to the bed, laughing internally as Bakura watched him warily. “Yes. Well, I thought it was only polite to say goodbye.”

Bakuras eyes narrowed into crimson slits.

“I know how you've always taught me to use my manners. Please Bakura, Thank you Bakura, you are so generous Bakura, you spoil me Bakura.” Ryou leaned close to Bakura’s face, leering at him, voice mocking and face twisted in contempt.

Bakura made no attempt to reply, just glared into the face of his disobedient Yadonushi.

Ryou hovered in front of Bakura for a few more seconds, watching the fear and anger flit through his eyes before moving back to sit in the chair by the bed with a small chuckle.

“What’s so funny?”

“Well, I always thought I was the pathetic one. But just look at you.” Ryou’s words were full of contempt and his sneer contorted his usually pleasant features into an ugly mask. “You had to call me for help. Me! Your pathetic Yadonushi. You were that afraid to die.”

“Shut up.” Bakuras face was scarlet with rage, red rimmed eyes oozing with fury.

“No! I won’t obey you any more!”

“You will do as I say baka, or do you want me to beat you again?”

Ryou snorted at this. Eyes cruelly running up and down the figure of the immobilized boy. “And how are you going to manage that, oh mighty Thief King?”

Bakura growled but didn't reply.

Ryou stood once again and loomed over Bakura, leaning over til his lips brushed his ear. “That’s what I thought. Baka.” He hissed, all his hatred, his loathing, his years of abuse spilling out in those few simple words.

“Go to hell!” Bakura snarled. Ryou smirked cruelly,

“Oh I plan to.” He turned smoothly on his heel and walked to the curtain, looking back to glare in contempt at the puny form of his Yami. “Goodbye Bakura. Don’t try to find me.”

Bakuras eyes widened at this, then narrowed again in hate. “You’ll never escape me Ryou. You know that. How will you cope without me? I have kept a roof over your head, kept you fed, clothed, warm. What will you do without me?”

Ryou snorted, turning to face the curtain once more, one slender hand resting on the material. “You know, it’s almost like you don’t want me to leave. But why would that be? I’m useless, pathetic, spineless. You've said it before. You should be jumping at the chance to get rid of me, and yet, you’re practically begging me to stay. Well it’s not going to work. I’ll see you in Hell Bakura.” He spat, before ripping the curtain aside and striding through the ward, ignoring the worried looks the nurses gave him as they saw his hateful expression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at- motorycycle-chan.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 5

Ryou lay on his bed. Staring at the ceiling. It had been three weeks since he’d stormed out of the hospital and still no trace of Bakura had been seen. He hadn't been attending school, not that he’d been that regular a student, and nobody had seen him in any of his usual haunts. There had also been no reports of muggings, burglary or theft in the area, which would have been a sure sign the thief was recovered and working again. All in all, it was very odd, and made Ryou suspicious. The mind link had also been silent, as it had in the days of the beatings. Any walls that had been broken when Bakura was injured had been quickly rebuilt twice as strongly by Ryou, who had no intention of letting the Thief near him ever again.

Ryou sat up and rubbed his hands along his cold arms. The house was just so quiet. Usually he could hear the television when he fell asleep, then, at exactly one every night his sleeping ears would be aware of the back door opening then closing as the Thief left to do whatever it was he did in the dead of the night. It was difficult to sleep in such oppressive silence, it felt thick, like it was pressing in and suffocating him. He began to feel light headed and sick and decided to step outside for some fresh air. He glanced at the clock by his bed, chuckling darkly at the irony. 1AM. He had woken at this time every night for months, and the absence of the Thief did nothing to alter it. He pulled on a hoodie and padded down the stairs, past the empty living room into the silent kitchen, occupied only by a lowly humming fridge. He unlocked the back door and stepped into the yard, freezing as his nose caught a familiar scent. Cigarette smoke. His brown eyes flicked round the small area, searching every shadow for traces of a presence. There was nobody there, but as Ryou stepped into the area blackened by the wall’s shadow he saw a faint red glow on the floor. A still smoking cigarette butt. Ryou stubbed it out with his slippered foot and picked it up nervously. The neatly printed label on the filter reaffirmed his suspicions, Richmond superking. The cigarettes Bakura always smoked. Ryou let out a gasp and dropped the butt to the floor, hastily retreating to the house where he locked the back door and sank down it, head in his knees. Muttering and shaking.

* * *

 

For weeks this continued. Every night, just after the numbers on Ryou’s clock changed to 01:00AM he would climb out of bed and pad through the silent house to the yard in bare feet. He wasn’t really sure why he did it every night. He supposed he wanted to make sure he wasn't going crazy or imagining things. But every night a faintly glowing Richmond superking butt could be found in the same spot. Ryou kept them. He put them in a tub in his kitchen drawer. Sometimes he went and looked at them, maybe even held them, counted them. He wasn’t certain why.

* * *

 

Ryous eyes flicked open and he crawled out of bed. Hating Bakura for destroying his sleep, hating him for still controlling his life. He growled at the display on his clock. 01:00AM.

“Fuck you Bakura.” He hissed at the clock, wearing a scowl and glare that the thief king himself would have been proud of.

Something felt different tonight, and Ryou didn't like it. He glanced out of his window down to the yard and could only see inky blackness, despite the light cast by the full moon. He furrowed his brow, something definitely felt wrong. He pulled on a hoodie and crept through the house, checking each room. Nothing amiss, nothing moved, nothing at all. But the nearer Ryou got to the yard the more nervous he became, the soft hairs on the back of his neck stood up and his arms broke out in goosebumps despite his warm hoodie. He paused, shaking hand on the keys that hung in the back door, making them jangle slightly. He laughed softly to himself for being so foolish and unlocked the door, swallowing and pushing it open to gaze into the blackness of the small yard.

His worried brown eyes scanned the ground until he saw it, the soft orange glow from a just dropped cigarette. He breathed a sigh of relief at the otherwise empty yard and started towards the butt, intending to extinguish it and add it to his strange collection. As he bent down to pick it up a slight noise from above him made him snap his head up sharply, ears pricked for danger. Atop the wall that surrounded the yard and led to the backstreet behind it a pair of deep crimson eyes glowed. The two pairs of eyes met, soft brown and bitter crimson and for a moment a look of shock sparked through the crimson eyes. Ryou gasped and started backing away towards the house, eyes never leaving those of the other. At his movement the figure swung off the wall into the backstreet, a flash of white hair Ryou’s last sight of the intruder. Ryou let out a small whimper and all but ran into the house, slamming the door behind him and locking it.

It was Bakura. It had to have been. White hair was not common in Japan, in fact Bakura and Ryou were the only people in their school with white hair, and Ryou didn't know anyone else with eyes as red as Bakuras. It had to have been him. Ryou gulped, sinking shakily into a chair. He was terrified. He had known it was Bakura all along, but in some part of his mind he held a stubborn belief that it could be someone else. After all, anyone could throw a cigarette butt into his yard at 1AM, it was hardly difficult. But those crimson eyes and that flash white hair had shattered that theory. Now that Ryou knew it was Bakura he felt a deep sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. Why had he come back? Was he angry? Was he planning to hurt him again? This last thought made his stomach churn and he stood over the kitchen sink, retching until his stomach was empty.

He didn't remember falling asleep. He was woken by a knocking at his front door and opened his eyes to find he had fallen asleep at the kitchen table. He glanced up at the clock above the cooker and shot upright, he was late for school. He ran to the front door and opened it to reveal a cheery, if not confused looking Yugi.

“Come in sit down I just need to get dressed.” Ryou explained quickly to the tri-colored boy, who smiled softly and made himself comfortable in the living room, something Ryou would never have let him do had Bakura still been there. The boy listened with amusement to the frantic sounds of Ryou dashing through the house to get ready, giving a small giggle when he heard a bump and a groan from Ryou, who had gotten his legs tangled in his school pants and fallen over. Ryou was ready in record time, racing into the front room looking disheveled, hair sticking out wildly and shirt crumpled.

“Okay, let’s go!” he smiled, grabbing his bag from the sofa next to Yugi and exiting the house after him.

* * *

 

“Are you sure Ryou?” Joey asked.

Ryou nodded slowly, “I’m sure Joey. Who else do you know with white hair and red eyes?”

Joey thought about this for a moment then conceded that Ryou was right with a shrug and a nod.

“Why would he come back though?”

Now it was Ryou’s turn to shrug. “I don’t know Joey, I just don’t know.”

* * *

 

After that Ryou stayed in bed when his clock changed to read 01:00AM, collecting the butts the next morning when it was light and he felt safer. The only problem was, now he was sure he was seeing things. He’d be on the way to school and would see a flash of white in the corner of his eyes, or the swish of a long black coat, but when he turned there would be nothing there. He was jumpy and his friends had started to notice.

“Are you okay Ryou? Your eye is twitching.” Anzu’s face was creased with worry as she surveyed her friend.

Ryou nodded, “Yeah I’m fine, just tired.”

Anzu frowned and scolded him for staying up late, but Joey flashed Ryou an understanding look. Joey and Ryou had come to an agreement, everyone was told that Bakura had transferred to a special school due to his poor grades, they weren't to know anything about the abuse, or about the fact that he might now be back and possibly even stalking him. The agreement was working well, and for a while Ryou had been happy. For a while he’d been totally free of Bakura, not needing to live in fear, allowed to have friends, able to do what he wanted when he wanted. But he still hadn't been completely happy. It had been depressing, coming home to an empty house, having no-one to talk to. Being alone constantly. But now that Bakura might be back, Ryou didn't know how to feel. He couldn't say he’d missed him. But he had to admit he had felt, almost incomplete without him. He supposed that anyone in the situation would feel the same, Bakura was after all, half of his soul and had resided in his body for years. It was only because of Yugi that he had got his own body. Yugi had wanted to free his own Yami because he loved him, Marik because he despised his Yami and wanted to be freed from him, and Ryou? Well, Ryou wasn't even sure why he’d wanted Bakura freed. But when Bakura found out about Yugis plan, Ryou had no choice but to agree. He had to admit, it was much more peaceful having his body to himself. Ryou knew better than to ask what Bakura used his body for, but he had woken before with blood on his hands and bruises on his body. Of course, Yugi’s plan had worked well for him and Marik. Yami and Yugi were dating, and Marik’s Yami had moved to his homeland of Egypt, leaving Marik free. It had backfired badly for Ryou, but he’d never had the heart to tell Yugi or his Yami, though Ryou was sure the Pharaoh suspected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at- motorycycle-chan.tumblr.com


	6. Chapter 6

It had now been almost 6 months since Bakuras ‘accident’ and there had still been no sightings of him. Ryou wasn’t sure whether to be happy or worried about it, especially as the cigarette butts continued to appear in his yard every night.

Everything stayed the same, Ryou followed the same dull, monotonous routine, his school grades and attendance improved and he finally had proper friends. The marks from Bakura’s abuse were fading and Ryou was healthier than ever. But he still felt strangely alone without the Thief. He no longer woke at 1am, and slept through the night, waking up the next day feeling refreshed and pleased that Bakura had lost at least that control on his life. He still collected the cigarette butt every morning, the tub was now nearly full, a constant reminder of Bakuras presence.

Ryou’s life remained a happy bubble, he spent time with friends after school and even invited them over to his house for sleepovers and movie nights, something Bakura would not have allowed. Everything was going smoothly, until a cold day in late November. Ryou had planned to go to the yard as usual to collect the cigarette butt, only to look out of his window and find a fine layer of snow covering everything. He had trouble pushing the back door open against the snow, which had been blown into a drift by the strong winds. He immediately dropped the idea of collecting the butt, as it would no doubt be buried under the snow which had fallen and settled sometime during the night. He tested the depth of the snow with his foot, smiling in delight as the majority of his slippered foot dissapeared into the snow. He giggled as he wondered if school would be shut and was about to return inside when he noticed a something black poking out of the ground behind the bins. He approached cautiously, not remembering putting anything in the yard recently. He stepped into the snow, immediately soaking through his thin slippers, chilling his feet and walked carefully through it to investigate. A horrified gasp left his mouth as he saw what it was. Bakura was leaning against the bin, covered in a light layer of snow. His skin was a pasty, sickly white and his lips were blue with cold. His face was thin and his cheeks were hollow. His eyes were shut and his breathing was slow and irregular.

“Bakura!” Ryou exclaimed, reaching forward to shake his shoulder, but the Thief’s eyes remained shut. “Shit.”

Ryou grabbed Bakuras arms and half pulled half dragged him through the snowy yard into the house. He was scarily light. Ryou carried him to the living room, lying him down on the sofa.

“Bakura!” No response. “Shit!”

His clothes were soaked through, long black coat heavy and dripping onto the carpet. Ryou sucked up his fear and peeled all of Bakuras clothes off except his boxers, which were thankfully dry. His ribs showed clearly through his pale skin, and he looked exhausted, eyes surrounded with dark circles. Bakuras skin was icy and he was shaking violently. Ryou ran to his room, dragging his bedding down the stairs with him and covering Bakura in his duvet and blanket. He reluctantly began rubbing warmth into Bakura’s freezing arms, noticing that they were skin and bone, and lacked the muscle they had boasted before. Bakuras skin was gradually regaining a slightly pink tint, and his lips were no longer blue. But he still did not wake up, and Ryou was beginning to get scared.

“Bakura!” He shouted, slapping the thiefs face lightly. There was no response.

There was only one more method Ryou could think of. He had spent months building walls to keep him out, and now in one simple action he would turn them all to rubble.

_‘Bakura?’_

Crimson eyes fluttered open. Frozen lungs took a shaky breath and released a violent, hacking cough that shook Bakuras frail body. Ryou watched in fear and horror as Bakura doubled over with the force of the cough, eyes watering. But what worried him most were the faint blood speckles that now graced Bakura’s hand. Bakura finally finished coughing and looked around in confusion, and what could have been fear, if the thief could feel fear. His crimson eyes came to settle on Ryou, who stood next to the sofa, playing with his hands nervously. Ryou regarded Bakura with nervousness, like you might a wild animal.

 **‘Ryou?’** The thiefs voice was disbelieving.

Ryou nodded, stepping closer to the sofa and kneeling down.

**‘What happened?’**

_‘I don’t know. I just went into the yard and you were lying there in the snow. What do you remember last?’_

**‘I was climbing over the wall to have my cigarette.’** Here he shot a slightly guilty look at Ryou. **‘Then I don’t remember.’**

_‘You must have fallen off the wall then.’_

Bakura nodded, surveying Ryou with obvious fascination. Ryou squirmed under his intense gaze, shifting nervously from his position on the floor. Bakura lifted a hand towards his face and he instinctively flinched away from the white fingers. The hand was swifty withdrawn, a pained look shooting across Bakura’s tired features before he turned to face away from Ryou, face buried in the back of the sofa.

 _‘I’ll get you some food. I’ll be right back.’_ Ryou stood from his position on the floor, the atmosphere in the room was heavy and uncomfortable, and he just wanted to get out of there. Bakura didn’t respond and Ryou just sighed and left the room, wondering if he would ever get rid of Bakura now.

Unbenownst to him, his open mind link allowed Bakura to hear his every thought. A couple of rooms away from Ryou, a white haired thief felt a single warm tear slide down his cold cheek and trickle from his chin.

‘I was happy without him. I could do what I wanted.’ Ryou sighed, pausing his thoughts as he heard a slight sound from the front room. It almost sounded like a... whimper?

 _‘Bakura?’_ Ryou abandoned the pan of soup he was heating in favor of checking the frail Thief who had once again disrupted his life. He paused outside the door to the living room, listening nervously, thinking of tricks and elaborate schemes. What he didn’t expect was to enter to the sounds of gentle sobbing, with Bakura curled up into the foetal position on the sofa, face pressed into the cushions as his body shook.

 _‘Bakura..’_ Ryou asked nervously. It was a trick. It had to be a trick. Bakura never cried. There was no response and Ryou began to feel awkward as he simply stood there and watched him cry. _‘Are you.. crying?’_

A laugh sounded from the sofa, although to Ryou’s ears it sounded a bit choked, and the Thief rolled over to face him. His face was damp and his eyes were red, his lips still tinted slightly blue from the cold.

 **‘I don’t cry Yadonushi. You thought so yourself.’** His expression was dark and his red rimmed eyes were filled with rage and unshed tears.

Ryou flinched as a sudden wave of disgust spread through the mind link between them, feeling momentarily pathetic and weak until he realised the disgust was not aimed at him, but at... _‘Bakura?’_

More feelings of disgust and dissapointment spread through the mind link, all shared by Bakura, aimed at Bakura. A sudden dark feeling of red raw hatred spread through the link and the tears in Bakuras dull crimson eyes fell silently, trailing down his cold, pale skin.

Ryou didn’t know what to do but stand and stare as Bakura tortured himself with these cruel thoughts. He didn’t know what had happened in the months Bakura had been missing, but the silently crying boy in front of him was not the same person who had once beaten and mistreated him.

“Bakura.” Ryou whispered, reaching out a gentle hand and placing it on Bakuras cold arm. Bakura looked up in alarm at the touch and flinched away, pushing Ryou’s hand away from him. His mind link was a whirl of emotions, anger, hatred, disgust, confusion and guilt. Overwhelming guilt. The mind link’s power was immense and Ryou felt himself grow lightheaded from the pressure of all the feelings rushing through his head. Bakura let out a choked sob as Ryou moved away from him, and a small wisp of what could have been dissapointment spread through the mind link between them, quickly blotted out by a flash of anger.

Ryou was scared. He hated to admit it, but Bakura’s broken, puny state was much more terrifying to him than his past angry and volatile personality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at- Motorcycle-chan.tumblr.com


	7. Chapter 7

It had been three weeks since Bakura had flung himself back into Ryou’s life, and the two had pretty much fallen back into their old routine. The only difference now was that neither spoke to the other. Ryou would wake early as usual and prepare breakfast, a slice of toast for him, and a fry up for Bakura. Ryou would eat his own breakfast and leave for school as Bakura awoke, Bakura would nod to Ryou as he left and sit to eat his own breakfast. The same followed with each meal, Ryou would make two portions, eat his own and leave Bakura to eat his once Ryou had finished. Bakura would leave his plate in the sink for Ryou to clean, just like always then disappear to watch TV while Ryou cleaned up. Ryou tried to avoid being in the same room as Bakura, the endless silence that stretched between them was just too awkward for him to handle. But occasionally the two would meet, there would be no conversation, they would just work around each other. Ryou would sit and do homework as Bakura silently ate his meal, or Ryou would read as Bakura watched TV. The strain of living in such awkward conditions was beginning to show, and Ryou became snappy and harsh at school, leaving many of his newly found friends hurt and confused about his behavior. Joey was the only one who understood, having been phoned by a frantic Ryou on the night Bakura had reappeared. Joey tried his best to explain Ryou’s behavior to his friends, but one by one they had enough, and Ryou was slowly pushed out of the group. Three weeks of living in silence was driving Ryou to his limit. he began to hate Bakura more than he had ever though possible, even more than when he used to beat him. One night he decided he’d had enough and decided to confront him. But when it came to it, he took one look at the subdued Thief and gave up, deciding instead to allow Bakura to make the first move.

 

* * *

 

Ryou hummed quietly to himself as he washed up the pots from dinner, hands immersed in the warm soapy water. He felt quite peaceful, he always liked washing up, there was something almost therapeutic about taking something dirty and washing all the grime away until it was clean and perfect again. He had just finished washing a plate and went to put it on the draining board to dry when-

“Ryou.”

The plate fell to the floor where it smashed, scattering across the kitchen and Ryou span round, mouth open in shock.

Bakura stood before him, one eyebrow raised and his mouth twisted up into his usual smirk. His arms were crossed over his chest and he held a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in one hand.

“Sorry,” he said, smirk growing at the surprise and distrust on Ryou’s face.

“It’s fine, you just startled me is all.” Ryou replied, light blush dusting his face. “Did you want something?”

Bakuras smirk fell at Ryous businesslike tone and he shuffled uncomfortably.

Now it was Ryous time to raise an eyebrow.

“I just thought that..” His voice trailed away and he sighed. “You know what? It doesn't matter. I’m going for a smoke.”

Ryou nodded and turned away, going into the cupboard under the sink to retrieve the dustpan and brush, it wasn't a good idea to leave that broken plate there, someone could cut themselves.

He heard a sigh from behind him, but didn't turn and instead bent down and began sweeping up the ruined plate. He could steel feel Bakuras presence behind him, but ignored the feeling of eyes on his back on continued to sweep up the floor, collecting every bit of the white pottery. A low growl sounded and he tensed, half expecting to be grabbed and dragged upright, as had happened so many times before. But all Ryou heard was Bakuras footsteps across the kitchen, then the backdoor opening and being closed roughly, slam ringing through the silent house.

As Ryou carefully emptied the dustpan into the bin he couldn't help but wonder just what Bakura had wanted to say. He shrugged to himself, thinking that it couldn't have been that important, and decided to take advantage of the empty living room to watch some TV.

* * *

 

“When I was in the hospital.” Bakura started speaking suddenly, voice raised over the crappy show on the TV. Ryou glanced up, then, noticing Bakura showed no sign of stopping, muted the set, turning to face him.

“What about it?” Ryou asked, noting that Bakura’s face held a vacant expression as he stared into space.

“When I told you to get out.”

Ryou bristled slightly at this, the memory still hurt and carried bitter feelings.

“Do you know why I said it?”

“No.” Ryou replied shortly, wondering where this conversation was leading.

Bakura sighed and rubbed his temples with a hand before continuing.

“You were being so Ra-damned passive. Just accepting everything I said. It was like I’d brainwashed you or something! You remembered every fucking word I said to you months before! You were acting like a robot, repeating commands.”

Ryou felt anger growing in his chest, “Well you did have a way of making lessons sticking in my head. What was it? A broken rib for not listening, three days of starvation to not cry?”

Bakura winced, a pained look spreading across his face.

“I explained the crying one in the hospital. I don’t like seeing you cry.”

“Well you sure did enough things to cause it considering you don’t like it!”

“I was trying to make you angry! To make you fight back! For you to prove I hadn't brainwashed you beyond recovery! I needed proof that you were still you! That I hadn't broken you!” Bakuras face was red and he was shouting, Ryou flinched back into the sofa, afraid the old Bakura was back. “See, you’re even doing it now, letting me yell at you! You don’t even try to defend yourself, you just sit there and cower!”

“Well I figured there was no point trying to defend myself after you nearly killed me so many times! How am I supposed to fight someone stronger than me? Besides, you were the one that told me I was pathetic and weak. I believed you, figured there was no way someone as weak as me could stop someone like you when you were angry.”

“That’s what I mean! I brainwashed you! You weren't yourself anymore! So I tried to get you back the only way I knew how! I just wanted you back Ryou.” Bakura was stood by now, towering over Ryou’s shaking form, fists balled in anger as he shouted, not thinking before he spoke.

Ryou’s eyes shot up in surprise as Bakura said his name with such affection and sadness.

“You made me your puppet, it’s too late to cut the strings now.” Ryou spat, anger suddenly making him brave he stood so he was face to face with Bakura. “Now get out of my way.”

Bakuras eyes widened in shock then narrowed again as he moved backwards, allowing Ryou to push past him roughly and leave the room. Bakura stayed stood in the same position as the front door slammed, leaving him confused and angry. He let out a cry of rage and punched the wall beside his hand, ignoring the pain ripping through his arm, he did it again, and again, until his hand was dripping blood and the wall was smeared with it. Then he sank to the ground and sat there in a daze, staring blankly at the silent images on the TV.

* * *

 

Ryou quietly opened the door to the house, shutting it slowly so he wouldn't wake Bakura and carefully locking it behind him. His head turned to the left as he heard a quiet noise from the front room, he paused to glance at his watch, forehead furrowing in surprise as he realized how late it was, 3:20AM. He had stayed out longer than intended, just wandering round the dark streets of Domino, thinking over what Bakura had said to him. He sighed and shook his head, deciding to leave it til tomorrow when they would both be better rested. He removed his coat and hung it on one of the hooks behind the front door, then he began to creep slowly up the stairs. Another small noise from the living room caught his attention and he turned round on the stairs, curiosity overtaking his fatigue.

He poked his head around the door frame cautiously, peering round the dimly lit room. He was surprised to see that the TV was still turned on, bands of white static sliding down the screen. He stepped further into the room, intending to turn the TV off and go to bed, but as he reached towards the sofa for the remote he noticed a small fleck of blood on the door frame. His eyes widened and followed the occasional specks of blood until he saw a patch of ripped wallpaper, covered in congealed red blood, shining unpleasantly in the flickering light. His eyes ran down the wall, following a line of red where the blood had trickled down the wall to meet the carpet. He stood in the dark room, shivering in fright, looking around anxiously for the source of the blood.

 _‘Bakura?’_ He tried cautiously, not expecting a response.

“Yeah?” Came a sudden voice from the corner of the room, hidden behind the sofa.

“Holy shit Bakura!” Ryou yelled, jumping about a foot in the air and grabbing his chest, feeling his heart pounding.

“Language Hikari.” Ryou could hear the smirk in Bakura’s voice.

“Bakura? What the hell did you do?” Ryou demanded, stalking across the room to stand before the ‘oh-so-amusing’ Thief. For once, he decided, he was going to find out what was going on and why Bakura was acting so strangely. But the sight of Bakura’s swollen, bruised hand and his face, streaked with blood toppled Ryou’s determination immediately. He dropped to his knees in front of Bakura, mouth open in shock and eyes still wide with fear.

“Bakura? What did you do?” His mouth felt dry and he was afraid, so very afraid that Bakura had snapped and gone back to his old self.

“I punched the wall a few times. Nothing to panic about.” Bakura reassured, amused smirk showing pointed canines that shone in the dim light of the TV.

Ryou felt his eyebrow twitch at the Thief's relaxed attitude and had to restrain himself from strangling him. Instead he sighed and reached towards the insufferable tomb robber, ignoring the pain that crossed his face and the sharp intake of breath as he took his hand gently into his own, soft brown eyes searching to judge the severity of the self inflicted injury.

“What’s your diagnosis, Doctor Ryou?” Bakura questioned, smirk increasing tenfold and a wicked glitter appearing in his eyes at the irritated look that flashed across Ryou’s face.

Ryou dropped Bakuras hand suddenly, causing him to hiss as it hit the ground with a dull thump.

“It’s definitely broken.” Ryou said coldly. “You've bruised it pretty bad and you've cut your knuckles open. The swelling should go down in a couple of days.”

Ryou stood up to leave the room, intending to get the first aid kit and some ice, but Bakuras uninjured hand reached up to grasp the hem of his t-shirt.

“Where do you think you’re going Yadonushi?”

Ryou flinched at the threatening tone but pulled away from Bakura’s grasp with a scowl.

“I’m getting the first aid kit so I can clean you up.”

Bakura growled, but allowed Ryou to leave the room and pulled himself off the ground to collapse on a blood flecked sofa, wincing at the pain that shot up his arm.

Ryou returned a moment later, green first aid kit in one hand and a bag of ice in the other, face set in an emotionless mask. He kneeled on the floor in front of the sofa and held his hand out to Bakura, who grudgingly placed his own hand in it. Ryou removed some cotton wool and some antiseptic liquid from the kit and, coating the cotton wool in the liquid, gently dabbed at the Thief's hand. Bakura growled and went to pull his hand away from the stinging liquid but Ryou had his wrist in a firm grip and he couldn't get free.

“If you hadn't punched the wall you wouldn't be in pain.” Ryou said, beginning to clean the blood away with less gentle wipes, “baka.”

Bakura chuckled darkly at Ryous whispered insult, but allowed the younger boy to continue cleaning the clotted blood from his hand. When the blood had been wiped away both Ryou and Bakura were able to see the damage better and Ryou sucked in a breath.

Bakura smirked and looked down at his massively swollen hand, it was covered in green, yellow and livid purple bruises and was at least twice it’s normal size. Small cuts littered his knuckles, some still oozing blood.

“Jesus Bakura, how hard did you hit the damn thing?”

“I hit it more than once.” He conceded, looking slightly ashamed at Ryou’s horrified glance and hanging his head low.

Ryou sighed and shook his head, reaching back into the first aid kit for a roll of bandages, which he carefully wrapped around Bakura’s knuckles, stopping the bleeding.

Bakura bit his lip and tried to hide the pain from Ryou, but a small whimper escaped his tightly clenched lips and Ryou glanced up, seeing the pain flickering in his crimson eyes.

“Sorry Bakura, but it needs to be sorted out. You should go to the hospital really.”

“No!” Bakura suddenly shouted, wrenching his hand away and clutching it close to his chest. “I’m not going back there.”

Ryou’s head furrowed in concern, the waves of fear and regret crashing through the mind link confusing him. “Okay, you don’t have to. Hold this on it, it’ll help with the swelling.” He held up the ice and Bakura took it with a small nod, gently applying it to his newly-bandaged hand and wincing.

Ryou sat before him for a few moments in silence, allowing himself to focus on the Thief’s feelings which were flowing between the mind link. An overwhelming feeling of sadness reached him and he felt tears inexplicably grow in his eyes. He looked up at Bakura and was shocked to see tears silently rolling down his face as he held his hand close to him.

“Bakura..” The Thief's head jerked up in surprise, as if he was unaware Ryou was still there.

“Go to bed. It’s late.” His cold, detached tone didn't allow argument, so Ryou silently rose and padded to the door, pausing just outside it to take one last glance at the still crying Yami.

“Ryou.” A quiet voice cut through the silence.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

Ryou’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but he felt a small smile grow on his face.

“You’re welcome. Night Bakura.”

There was no reply, but Ryou climbed the stairs that night with his heart feeling lighter than it had in months. He didn't know what had happened to Bakura, but whatever it was, it had changed him for the good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at- motorcycle-chan.tumblr.com


	8. Chapter 8

Ryou awoke late the next day to bright sunlight streaming through his curtains, he groaned and rolled over to look at his clock, 12.34PM. His eyes widened in alarm until he realized it was a Saturday so he wasn't horribly late to school. He sat on the edge of his bed and stretched, pajama top riding up to reveal a strip of pure white skin.

“You’re awake then.” Came an amused voice from his doorway and his arms dropped down, covering the skin again, a flash of disappointment crossing the Thief's face.

He nodded shyly, embarrassed at having slept so late.

“How’s your hand?” Ryou inquired, stepping up from the bed and striding over to Bakura to take a closer look. The bandages had remained white, so the bleeding had stopped and the swelling seemed to have gone down a lot. “It looks better already. Does it hurt?”

The Thief shrugged nonchalantly, “not much.” He turned to leave the room but paused at the top of the stairs, “Get dressed, I've made dinner.”

Ryou’s eyes once again widened in shock. Bakura was cooking? A second later a flash of panic appeared in his eyes, and he hurriedly pulled on a t-shirt and some jeans, before flying down the stairs and skidding into the kitchen, nose searching for burning.

Bakura raised an eyebrow at his disheveled appearance and sudden entrance as he stirred something in a pan on the stove. Ryou paused in the doorway, suddenly awkward.

“Something wrong?” Bakura questioned, removing two bowls from the cupboard and beginning to empty the contents of the pan into them.

Ryou rapidly shook his head and took a seat at the breakfast bar, watching Bakura sprinkle cheese on top of each meal before carrying them over to the table, which he noted had been set with cutlery and glasses of water.

“Thanks.” Ryou said as a bowl of steaming hot pasta topped with a generous amount of melted cheese was placed before him. He felt his mouth watering as he inhaled the delicious smell. “I didn't know you could cook.”

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me.” Bakura said cryptically, before lifting his fork and digging into his own bowl of pasta.

Ryou watched the Thief for a moment, then, cautiously lifted a forkful of the pasta to his own mouth, chewing slowly. His face broke into a smile as he swallowed.

“This is delicious Bakura!” He exclaimed, too focused on the food to notice the blush that lingered on Bakura’s cheeks or the slight upward quirk of his mouth that could be mistaken for a smile.

They ate in silence, Ryou making small appreciative noises as he practically devoured the pasta and Bakura eating with difficulty due to his fork holding hand being heavily bandaged.

Ryou finished first and sat back in his chair with a contented sigh, licking red pasta sauce off his lips and fingers, a sight Bakura watched with interest.

“That was really nice Bakura, you should cook more often.”

Bakura smirked as he finished his own bowl of pasta, “Don’t be getting ideas.”

To Ryou’s surprise Bakura gathered the dirty pots and took them to the sink, which he proceeded to fill with hot water and washing up liquid. Ryou felt his eyebrows would shoot right off his head as Bakura then proceeded to wash them up, something which had never happened before. Bakura must have sensed Ryou’s disbelieving stare as he turned round with a smirk.

“Yes?”

“You.. You’re washing up.” Ryou managed to stutter.

“Very observant.”

“You never wash up.” Ryou remarked, walking over to the draining board and picking up a tea towel to dry up.

“Well you like it so much, I figured I’d see what the fuss was about.”

“Oh.” Was all Ryou managed to say, and they stayed there in comfortable silence, Bakura washing and Ryou drying and putting away.

Ryou seemed to spend the rest of the day in a state of constant surprise, Bakura let him choose what to watch on TV and paid for a takeaway for their tea. The fact he paid for it with stolen money made no difference to Ryou, Bakura never spent his money on anyone but himself.

They ended up sat on the sofa, eating pizza and watching a film of Ryous choosing, which meant a comedy, rather than the blood filled horror Bakura would have chosen. Ryou found himself eating his pizza slower and slower, as he was too astonished by Bakura’s occasional chuckles at the film and the fact that he had slowly, and unnoticed by Ryou, slid across the sofa towards him until their thighs and arms were pressed together, producing an alarmingly pleasant warmth to flow through Ryou.

It was getting late and Ryou was asleep before the film ended, head resting on Bakura’s shoulder.

“Ryou.” Bakura said quietly, in a hopeless attempt to wake the sleeping boy.

He sighed, but gave his peacefully sleeping Hikari a small smile before carefully removing himself from the sofa and gently picking Ryou up. He carried him up the stairs bridal style, unable to stifle a blush when the sleeping boy snuggled into his chest and sighed contently. He gently placed Ryou down on his bed, removing his jeans to reveal perfect milky white legs, he forced himself to look away and instead lifted the sheets to cover Ryou’s lightly snoring body. He tucked the sheets in around the sleeping form and took a moment to just watch Ryou’s peaceful sleeping form, his skin seemed to shine in the moonlight that streamed in through his window and his white hair made him look almost angelic. Bakura sat on the bed and ran a hesitant hand through Ryou’s hair, pleased with how soft it felt under his fingers. On impulse he leant forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his Hikari’s forehead, relishing in the smell of coconut that came from his hair and the gentle sounds of his breathing. Bakura stood from the bed and strode to the door, pausing to take one last look at his sleeping light, a smile lingered on the boys sleeping face and he snuggled further under his duvet. Bakura allowed a gentle smile to appear on his face, thinking that he should be nice to his Hikari more often, he liked it when he smiled.

“Night, Ryou.” he whispered, silently closing the door and heading to his own bed.

* * *

 

Sunday followed in a similar manner, Bakura was uncharacteristically friendly and Ryou felt himself becoming more comfortable around the Thief than he ever had before. It was nice, that was the only way Ryou could describe it. It was nice to have someone to talk to who wasn't threatening him or putting him down. Bakura also seemed to enjoy it, his smirk seemed less vicious, and sometimes it could even be seen as a smile, although if Ryou noticed he didn't bring it up. Bakura took it upon himself to wash up after every meal, even with his broken hand, and once even sent Ryou to watch TV while he cleared up, to which Ryou could only open and shut his mouth uselessly and follow the tomb robbers orders. It was during this occasion that Ryou discovered how atrocious Sunday afternoon TV was, and decided to instead watch Bakura wash up and maybe have a conversation. He walked cautiously into the kitchen, half expecting Bakura to be annoyed with him for disobeying him, but was instead surprised to find Bakura up to his elbows in washing up water, a small smile gracing his face and a soft tune escaping through his lips. Ryou quietly took a seat at the breakfast bar and listened with interest to the song the Thief was gently singing, he could just make out the lyrics over the splashing water and clinking pots.

“Hush now, my baby, Be still, love, don't cry, Sleep as you're rocked by the stream, Sleep and remember my last lullaby, So I'll be with you when you dream.” Bakuras voice trailed off as he finished the song, and Ryou felt strangely sad and empty when his voice ceased.

“My mother used to sing it to me.” Bakura said, eyes never leaving the sink, hands never ceasing in their task. “Before..” His voice trailed off and he sighed quietly.

“Before what?” Ryou asked, moving over to stand beside the Thief.

“Before she died.” Bakura finished quietly, placing the last glass on the draining board and pulling out the plug, the sound of gurgling water the only thing in the kitchen for a short moment.

“I’m sorry.” Ryou said, placing a hand on Bakura’s forearm. The Thief’s eyes flickered up to met his and a wave of understanding passed between them. “My mother died too.”

Bakura nodded, “And your sister.”

Ryous eyes widened in shock, he had never told Bakura how he had lost his family, he always got the feeling that the Thief didn't care.

“Mind link.” Bakura simply said, tapping the side of his head with a faint smirk.

Ryou smiled and chuckled, he already knew about the massacre of Kul Elna. During the last duel between Bakura and the Pharaoh, the Pharaoh had regained his memories and the horrible truth of Bakuras past came to light. Ryou couldn't remember much of Atems reaction as he had been locked away in his soul room, he just remembered seeing horrific images flashing through Bakuras head. He still had nightmares about them sometimes, and he had the feeling Bakura did too.

The two of them just stood together for a while in the kitchen, each quietly mourning their losses. Ryou thought of Amane’s wide green eyes, her soft white hair, and the way she used to pester him non stop to play with her dolls. He swallowed back tears as he remembered how she had looked laid out in her coffin, wearing her prettiest dress and clutching her most precious doll in her arms. A doll that Ryou had bought her for Christmas a couple of years before, he had saved his pocket money for months to buy it, and as he had expected, Amane loved it, she took it everywhere with her, and now it was with her forever, a little reminder of her big brother. His thoughts wandered to his mother, soft honey brown eyes, like Ryou’s own, hands rough from hours of washing up and cleaning. He remembered that she smelt of vanilla, and the safe feeling that scent had brought him since her death. Like being enveloped in one of her loving hugs, arms tightly around him, gently rocking him as he cried. He remembered her kissing his knee when he scraped it, and although he knew it had no real effect, always feeling better when she had. Ryou sniffed and became aware of warm tears trickling down his cheeks and a hollow feeling in his chest, like he had lost a part of himself along with them.

Bakuras eyes were hard and glassy, betraying no emotion, but the tension in his muscles and the slight twitch of his lip betrayed his grief and anger. He had lost his family in the worst way possible, they had been murdered. Thrown into a pot of molten gold along with everyone else he knew from his village, their bodies had been made into the seven millennium items that he had spent the first half of his life searching for, trying to destroy them and appease his loved ones. He remembered the horror on Pharaoh Atems face and the heartfelt apology he had received, which he had not been expecting. He remembered falling to his knees and screaming at the sky, head flung back, all his rage, pain and loneliness escaping in that long, terrifying roar. He remembered Atems gentle hand on his shoulder, and his piercing crimson eyes, filled with tears for people he had never known, people he wasn't responsible for. That was the first time Bakura had broken down since he was a child, he allowed the tears to roll down his face even as Atem strode away to the afterlife, even as Yugi begged him not to go. He remembered Ryou’s persistent askings over the mind link, confused and disorientated as he was, he remembered that was the first night he had spent without Ryou since the boy had been given the millennium ring. He also remembered that when he and Atem were granted new bodies by the Gods, the first thing he had done upon reaching Earth had been to seek out Ryou, needing to know at least one person in his life still remained. Memories of beatings and cruel words and tears, so many of Ryou’s tears flowed through his mind, making him feel sick.

A quiet sniff drew Bakura from his memories and he looked up to see Ryou’s gentle face, contorted with pain and with crystal tears escaping his wide brown eyes. He felt something twist in his chest at the sight, and before he knew what he was doing he had wrapped his arms around the boy, drawing his head onto his shoulder and running his fingers through his hair, gently shushing him. Ryou stiffened in his touch at first, but with more soft strokes of his hair and muttered reassurances, Ryou wrapped his own arms around the Thief, holding him tight, allowing his tears to fall and create a damp patch on Bakura’s striped t-shirt. They stood like that for a long time, Ryou crying softly and Bakura comforting him, finally doing the job a Yami should. Ryous tears slowly ceased, and he sighed shakily, leaning into Bakura and inhaling the smell of blood and cigarettes and, strangely a faint trace of vanilla that made Ryous breath hitch. Bakura continued to stroke Ryou’s hair, receiving as much comfort from the motion as the recipient. Bakura began to gently hum, the vibrations of his chest spreading through Ryou’s body as he recognized the tune, it was the lullaby Bakuras mother used to sing him. Ryou felt a small smile work its way onto his face, looking out of place among the tear tracks and red eyes. Eventually, the tune finished and Bakura drew back, shuffling slightly awkwardly.

“Thanks,” Ryou said, slightly hesitantly, “Kura.”

Bakuras eyes shot up at the childhood nickname and he smirked a smile-like smirk.

“Anytime. Ry.”

Now it was Ryous time to be surprised by the nickname, smile widening as he felt the warmth running through Bakuras mind link into his own, and surely being sent back. Ryou lifted his hand to wipe his face dry, blocking out his view of Bakura for a moment. When he lowered his hand again he saw the back door swinging shut behind Bakura as he headed out for a cigarette. Ryou smiled, some things never change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at- motorcycle-chan.tumblr.com  
> or DMMd side blog- minky-way.tumblr.com


	9. Chapter 9

“Bakura?” Ryou queried, placing his chopsticks back into his bowl of noodles hesitantly.

“Hm?” Bakura asked around rather a huge mouthful.

“You know, before you went into hospital?”

Bakura swallowed his noodles and stared at Ryou with narrowed eyes. “What about it?”

Ryou coughed awkwardly, Bakura had been acting much nicer lately, but he was still nervous around him. “Well I was just wondering, what happened?”

Bakura’s eyes flashed crimson for a moment. “I told you it wasn’t important.”

It was true that Ryou had tried asking once before, but he had been cut off with a cold response in a no-nonsense tone and he had enough sense to not try and pry deeper. But Bakura had been in an extra good mood today, he had even helped Ryou with his coursework on Ancient Egypt. The noodles they were eating now had been ordered and paid for by Bakura, a last minute ‘treat’ for Ryou, who had been sitting exams all week. Even the slightly mocking tone of Bakura’s voice couldn’t dim the blush that had spread up his cheeks and the feeling of joy at the friendship that had finally formed between them.

Bakura sighed as Ryou continued to look at him, and eventually lowered his own chopsticks. “Fine, I’ll tell you.”

Ryou perked up with excitement, noodles all but forgotten.

“But I swear to Ra if you tell anyone you won’t live long enough to regret it.”

Ryou just nodded, well used to the Thief’s threats by now and all too aware that he would never carry them out.

“I was just doing a job like usual, and some guy comes over, not one of my regulars. He asked if I had anything for him, so I told him what I had and he asked to look at it, to check the quality and stuff.”

Ryou blinked blankly. “What?”

Bakura rolled his eyebrows, “drugs, idiot.”

Ryou’s mouth hung open in surprise and his eyebrows had practically dissapeared into his hair. “Drugs? You, you were dealing?”

“Yes Ryou, now do you want to hear the rest of the story?

Ryou visibly squirmed, the urge to lecture Bakura was extremely high, but he eventually managed a stiff nod.

“Right. So I give this guy some to have a look at, and he says he’ll take it. So I asked him for the money and he starts bullshitting me about not having it now but paying me later. I always take money before they get their stuff, it’s just smarter that way. So he refused to pay and then just went apeshit and started beating the crap out of me, caught me by surprise. Otherwise I would’ve won.”

Ryou rolled his eyes, “Of course you would have.”

Bakura practically swelled at the praise before continuing, not noticing the words were laced with sarcasm. “But then the guy pulled a knife on me, my knife actually, bastard must’ve stolen it from me somehow.”

Ryou fought the urge to laugh at this, the great Thief King being robbed, a glare from Bakura stopped his giggles though.

“He attacked me and then left me in that alley. He must’ve taken my stuff cause the hospital didn’t find anything suspicious. So then I decided to call you, and, it worked.”

An awkward silence fell over the two of them, broken only by Bakura frantically stuffing noodles into his mouth.

“Is that what happened the other time? Did a deal go bad then too?” Ryou’s mind flicked back to the bloody water in the shower and the bandages round Bakura’s chest.

Bakura nodded curtly and scooped up the last of his noodles. “Tried to con me out of $70, cheap bastard. He got what was coming to him.”

Ryou’s eyes widened and Bakura sighed again, “I didn’t kill him, just.. messed him up a bit.”

That wasn’t particularily reassuring to Ryou, but he supposed it was good that Bakura was being honest with him.

“So, why were you doing it?”

“For shits and giggles.” Ryou’s unimpressed face met his, “For the money, obviously.”

Ryou’s face twisted in confusion, “but we have plenty of money, Dad sends cheques every month and pays for the rent. I even have enough savings to get me through University.”

“You have plenty of money.” Bakura corrected him, eyeing up Ryou’s noodles in a not very subtle manner.

“Well we’ve always shared it before, how come you wanted your own?” Ryou pushed his bowl over the table to the Thief, who began shovelling them into his mouth with gusto.

“I was saving for something.”

Ryou cocked his head to the side, noting how Bakura began eating with even more speed as his eyes remained on him. It was almost as if he was emabrassed.

“What for?”

“It’s a secret.” Bakura smirked, licking his lips clean of sauce for what Ryou thought was an indecent amount of time.

“Fine.” Ryou remarked, finally tearing his eyes away from Bakura’s pointed tongue. “Don’t tell me.”

“Alright then.” Bakura remarked, much to Ryou’s annoyance. He carried the bowls to the sink and binned the wooden chopsticks. “What d’you wanna do tonight?”

Ryou shrugged, “Whatever.”

“Why don’t you go pick a film then? I’ll be through in a minute.”

Ryou nodded, figuring Bakura was going out for a cigarette and went into the living room, kneeling down to look at the stacks of alphabetised DVD’s, quickly finding the one he wanted and pulling it out, careful to leave a splace so he knew where to return it to afterwards. He put it in the DVD player and turned on the TV, skipping the trailers until he reached the menu screen where he paused, uncertain whether to start without Bakura. In the end he decided not to, and muted the irritating loop of music, listening instead to Bakura’s movements from the kitchen. His nose wrinkled with annoyance as the smell of smoke hit him far too hard to be coming from outside, he rolled his eyes but decided not to mention it. Bakura had a strange habit of doing the washing up with a cigarette in his mouth, though how he didn’t drop it Ryou didn’t know. At least he was doing the washing up, Ryou though, eyes flickering to his right hand, where the skin was dry and beginning to crack, red raw patches on his otherwise flawless white skin. He ran his hand over it contemplatively, feeling how scaly it was.

“You okay?” The voice from behind him startled him and he jerked up straighter on the sofa. “You been using that cream the doctor gave you?”

Ryou nodded, surprised Bakura even remembered, let alone knew what he had been looking at with such annoyance.

“What’s that?” Ryou asked, noticing for the first time that Bakura was carrying two bowls with him.

“Dessert.” Bakura replied simply, handing him one as if it was completely normal for him to not only pay for takeaway, but also to go out and buy dessert too.

“Umm, thanks.” Ryou replied, taking the bowl nervously, and jabbing the unknown, and huge, portion of dessert with his spoon.

Bakura chuckled darkly and sat himself on the sofa next to him, uncomfortably close as usual, so their legs brushed. “It won’t kill you. It’s mississippi mud pie, there’s ice-cream in there too.”

Ryou blinked at his bowl. It looked nothing liked mississippi mud pie, obviously Bakura’s serving skills could use some practice, and the ice-cream was nowhere to be found, he’d obviously put it in first then covered it in sloppily served pie.

“Thanks Kura.” Ryou said, surprise clear in his voice. Before taking a spoonful of the pudding and eating it cautiously.

“Well?” Bakura asked, eyes glinting with amusement.

“It’s good!” Ryou beamed, blushing slightly at the almost tender look Bakura gave him.

“Good.” Bakura smiled, “You gunna put the film on?”

Ryou’s eyes widened around another mouthful of pie and he searched for the remotes, un-muting the TV then starting the film. Bakura reached up a moment later to turn off the light and leave them in relative darkness, before settling himself down beside Ryou, absorbing each others warmth and eating their desserts.

Bakura was surprised when the title of the film came onto the screen and turned to Ryou with a frown. “I thought you didn’t like scary stuff?”

“Hot fuzz isn’t that scary, I think it’s funny, and I knew you’d like all the blood.” Ryou smiled.

The surprise was obvious on Bakura’s face and Ryou giggled, covering his chocolate stained mouth with a hand. His giggling soon stopped though when Bakura moved closer and planted a kiss on the top of his head.

“Thanks, Ry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at- motorcycle-chan.tumblr.com  
> Or DMMd side blog- minky-way.tumblr.com


	10. Chapter 10

Bakura kept up his strange behavior for the next two weeks, and Ryou was starting to get suspicious. He almost expected Bakura to suddenly announce that Ryou owed him for all his help and command him to do something either illegal or degrading. After all, Bakura was still the same spiky haired man who smelt of blood and had an obsession with sharp objects. But the trusting side of Ryou wanted to believe that Bakura really had changed. Ryou half wished things could go back to the way they were, but without the almost daily beatings. He wasn't yet used to Bakura’s positive attention, and was unsure whether he preferred living in fear or confusion. Gone were the days of flinching when Bakura came near, waiting for a fist or a foot to make an imprint on pale skin. Now when Bakura entered a room Ryou felt his spine stiffen automatically, almost anticipating the slightly too long linger of a hand on his shoulder, or the subtle brushing of his arm as he walked past.

That was another thing that troubled Ryou, the Thief’s physical gestures were always kept subtle, and might even go unnoticed by an observer, but it seemed to Ryou that Bakura used any excuse to touch him. The flat was large enough that they could pass each other easily, yet Bakura would take up far more room than necessary just so he could brush against Ryou.

* * *

 

“Hikari.” A velvety voice broke Ryou from his thoughts and he looked up.

“Hm?” He responded absently, too focused on the fact that Bakura was clearly fresh out of the shower and had chosen to go shirtless. He swallowed thickly as he watched rivulets of water trickle from Bakura’s now limp hair down his bare chest.

“I’m up here.” Bakura said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Ryou snapped his eyes up immediately, feeling warmth rise to his cheeks which only grew as he saw Bakura raise an eyebrow suggestively with his trademark smirk.

“Now you've finished eyeing me up,” Ryou squawked slightly in protest but Bakura carried on speaking, “when do you break up?”

Ryou blinked and his brow furrowed in confusion, his lips settling into a slight pout.

“Break up..?”

“From school.” Bakura sighed, rubbing his temples tiredly. “Honestly, if I’d known my abs were that distracting I would've put a shirt on.”

Ryou’s blush increased but he set an indifferent look on his face and snorted a derisive, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Bakura’s eye twitched in annoyance, but the cheeky comment was left unpunished, something Ryou had yet to get used to.

“And this Friday, since you’re so interested.”

Bakura nodded dismissively, then, much to Ryou’s horror sat heavily on the sofa next to him, unnecessarily close as usual.

Ryou glanced over at Bakura who was now channel surfing, wearing an unimpressed expression and muttering curses about each show he paused on. A bead of water trickled between his abs, making its way down til it reached his jeans. Ryou quickly snapped his head away, face red hot and eyes wide. He hadn't noticed before, but Bakura’s jeans were quite low riding, his well sculpted stomach leading down to a worryingly distracting triangle which disappeared into his black boxers, the waistband of which was showing over his jeans.

“A-aren't you cold?” Ryou asked, mentally slapping himself for stammering.

Bakura looked up, noticing how flustered Ryou was and the fact that he refused to look at him and grinned. “I am a bit actually.”

“So why don’t you put something else on?” Ryou suggested, struggling to keep his voice steady as Bakura leaned nearer, smirking playfully. Their arms were already pressed together, and Ryou, who had unwisely chosen the corner seat, had no chance of escape.

“Hmm..” Bakura made a mock thoughtful noise and tapped his chin with a slim finger. “I don’t think I’ll bother, its much more fun watching you all flustered.”

Ryou was beginning to panic, Bakura was unpleasantly close, he could smell his shampoo and his natural scent, blood and rust. He could feel the waves of heat coming from Bakura’s far too exposed skin, despite his claims of being cold. Warm breath tickling his ear made his throat hitch audibly and a low chuckle resonated all the way to the base of his spine, making him shiver.

“Now now Hikari, I wonder whats got you so worked up.” Ryou could imagine Bakura’s expression, mouth set in a dangerous smirk, eyes filled with a mixture of sadistic pleasure and genuine amusement.

Ryou’s mouth had dried up, his tongue seemed too big and he was breathing shallowly, almost afraid of making too much noise, of letting Bakura know he was affecting him.

“Playing the silent game?” Bakura whispered into his ear, obviously enjoying his psychological torture.

Ryou pressed his lips together tighter and squeezed his eyes shut as he felt Bakura shift his weight on the sofa, moving so one of his knees was between Ryou’s. The position made Ryou feel trapped and vulnerable, a horrible reminder of Bakura’s old temperament.

Bakura chuckled again and Ryou felt the vibrations running through his body, “You know, with the way you’re acting, I’d almost think you were gay, Hikari.”

“You know I’m gay Bakura. We share a mind link.” Ryou pointed out, logic coming to his rescue, if not a little overdue.

Bakura huffed slightly, annoyed Ryou hadn't taken the bait.

“True. But you didn't use to hide things from me very well.” Ryou tensed at this, but kept his eyes firmly shut. “I know exactly what you think about when you’re alone. I know all your dirty little secrets.”

Ryou twitched in annoyance, eyes opening indignantly to see an expanse of creamy white flesh, perfect even with the scars that crisscrossed it. Any anger he felt faded, quickly replaced by a strange sense of sadness that pooled in his stomach like a rock. Most of the scars were old by now, bumpy from home-made stitches, white and slightly shiny. The most recent one ran all the way down from his collarbones to his stomach, red and angry looking. It sliced him in half down the middle, a harsh contrast to his almost albino white skin. Ryou unconsciously relaxed, eyes flitting over Bakura’s chest with a mixture of fascination and a queasy feeling that wouldn't go away.

Bakura seemed to notice the change in mood and leaned back, removing his face from it’s position in the crook of Ryou’s neck, the perfect place to whisper in his ear. He looked down at Ryou with curiosity, head cocked slightly, studying Ryou’s face. Bakura’s eyes narrowed slightly as Ryou raised a delicate hand, not once looking at his face. Bakura instinctively flinched slightly as Ryou placed his fingertips over the long scar, but forced himself to stay still. Ryou gently ran his fingers over the raised skin, able to feel how deep the cut had been in one particular area by the texture. His eyes picked out the smaller red dots where the stitches had been, lined up neatly in pairs of two. Ryou slowly felt his way down the scar, fingertips barely grazing the warm and surprisingly soft skin which raised and lowered gently as Bakura breathed.

Bakura watched Ryou’s face, surprised by the mixture of emotions he saw in his brown eyes, which stared almost unblinkingly at his scarred torso. Ryou’s fingers were warm and gentle, flitting down his skin carefully, as if worried about breaking him. Bakura had no idea how much time had gone by, but his hair wasn't dripping any more. Ryou’s fingers finally finished their exploration, lingering on the unblemished skin of his lower stomach. Bakura let the silence last for a few more seconds, trying to tell himself it was because he couldn't think of anything clever to say, not because he liked Ryou touching him.

“If you wanted to feel me up you only had to ask.” Bakura smirked, effectively ruining the peaceful, if not slightly bizarre atmosphere. He removed himself from the sofa a moment later, effectively freeing Ryou, who took the opportunity to throw a magazine at him, though not maliciously.

“Go put a shirt on Bakura.” He ordered darkly, a mixture of embarrassment and a sudden, inexplicable surge of bravery making his voice more playful than he’d intended.

“Of course, Ry.” Bakura said, smirk turning into something akin to a normal smile as he left the room to get a shirt, though he wasn't cold any more.

Having snapped out of his almost hypnotized state, Ryou rolled his eyes at the Thief's retreating back, noting as he did so, how well shaped his shoulders were. A burst of laughter from the next room let him know the mind link was not closed properly and he quickly slammed it shut, blush blooming on his cheeks.

**‘You never learn Hikari.’**

_‘Oh shut up.’_

Ryou sat on the sofa, desperately trying to calm down and reduce his blush before Bakura returned, no doubt to torment him more. He just about managed and was feeling distinctly less panicked, if not still quite warm when Bakura strolled in wearing a striped t-shirt. He resumed his channel surfing again as if nothing had happened, still sitting too close for Ryou’s liking.

“Kura.” Ryou asked, face lighting up with a Bakura-like smirk.

“Yeah?” Bakura’s eyes didn't leave the TV.

“You realize the mind link works both ways right?”

“Yeah...” Now Bakura sounded insulted.

“Well you used to be pretty bad at hiding stuff too.” Ryou remarked, pretending to be very interested in his nails as he spoke casually, aware of Bakura’s eyes staring at him.

“What are you getting at.” Bakura’s voice had gained a dangerous edge, and Ryou knew if he looked over he’d be pierced with a steely glare.

“Well, you can’t really say anything about me being gay.” Ryou took a glance at Bakura, whose eye twitched. “Not when I know you’re gay too.”

Bakura ground his teeth together in annoyance, trying to think of something witty to say.

It didn't work.

“Shut up Ryou.” He snapped, turning to the TV in a sulk which became more and more fake when Ryou’s laughter met his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at- motorcycle-chan.tumblr.com  
> or DMMd side blog- minky-way.tumblr.com


	11. Chapter 11

“Ryou get up, the mail’s here.”

Ryou practically fell out of his bed at these words, pulling on his jeans with difficulty and almost bashing his head on his wardrobe as he stumbled about. “I’m coming. Don’t open it without me!”

Bakura scoffed loudly enough that Ryou heard it from his room, which he had just left in favor of speeding into the dining room where Bakura sat at the table reading a Chinese takeaway leaflet boredly. “It’s illegal to open other peoples mail.”

“Like something being illegal would ever stop you.” Ryou remarked, eyebrow raised at Bakura’s innocent act. He had changed, but surely not enough to actually respect the law.

“Touche Hikari mine.” Bakura smiled, picking a slim cream envelope off the table and running it through his fingers teasingly, deliberately holding it just out of Ryou’s reach.

“Bakura!” Ryou whined, “give me my letter!”

“Did nobody ever teach you manners? I won’t be giving you anything if you’re so rude.” Bakura snorted, exaggerating his British accent and giving a teacherly look.

Ryou sighed exasperatedly, giving up on trying to grab the ever evasive hand of the Thief and instead sat back in his chair, glaring stubbornly.

“If you say please I’ll give you the letter.” Bakura explained, eyes glinting as he watched Ryou get aggravated. “It is an important letter after all.”

Ryou’s mouth twitched up at the corner, a sign of one of his rare explosions. As someone who’d always prided himself on his British good manners and general politeness, Ryou considered it standard to say please and thank you in most situations. But somehow when it came to Bakura, Ryou didn't feel the need to be so polite.

“Please.” Ryou spat out through gritted teeth, annoyed at having given in so early.

Bakura raised an eyebrow, thoroughly enjoying tormenting his Hikari, who he could see was getting steadily angrier. “Please, what?”

Ryou was virtually pulling his hair our with frustration by now, and he could tell that the moment he spoke his voice would be whiny and childish. “Please can I have my letter Bakura.”

Bakura’s smirk grew, satisfied with the response he slid the letter across the table towards Ryous fidgeting fingers. “Since you asked so politely.”

Ryou simply shot him a quick glare before opening the envelope with trembling yet careful hands and removing the neatly folded letter. His hands froze and he suddenly felt sick. He swallowed thickly then looked up in alarm as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Relax, it’ll be fine.” Bakura reassured, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze before moving round the table to sit beside him in a show of support.

“Okay.” Ryou muttered, though he didn't feel sure at all. “It’ll be okay.”

“Do it quick, like ripping off a plaster.” Bakura advised sagely.

Ryou nodded. He liked that idea.

He took one last look at Bakura, checking for confirmation, which came in the form of a nod and a smile. He took a deep breath, shut his eyes, and, in one quick movement that undoubtedly creased the paper, unfolded the letter.

He heard a sharp intake of breath from the Thief and screwed his eyes shut tighter, feeling his life disintegrating around him. His hands began shaking more violently and his knuckles tightened round the paper, tiny ripping noises filling the otherwise empty room.

“You know Ryou, it might help if you opened your eyes.” Bakura said, a shade too patronizingly for Ryou’s liking.

“No thanks, I’m fine like this.” He announced stubbornly, deciding it was better to not know than to risk the chance of a bad result.

There was an exasperated sigh and before Ryou could judge the Thief’s changing position hands were on his face, forcing his eyelids to flicker open. Ryou blinked and found his vision filled with a slightly pissed off looking Thief with a disbelieving expression.

“You studied for these exams for hours. You had a week long panic attack during them and you've been waiting for this letter for a month. Read the damn thing!” Bakura spat, thrusting the letter into his alarmed face.

The numbers and words were blurry at first as his eyes adjusted to the light again, but all too soon they came into focus and Ryou had to blink again.

“I.. I passed.” He stuttered clumsily, staring at the letter in shock, tears forming in his eyes.

“You did more than pass! You got A*’s in all of them, and this note here says you were top of your year.”

Ryou blinked again, eyes filling with water as he re-read the letter and the specially written congratulations from the Principal for breaking the schools record for exam results.

Ryou tried to speak but all that came out was a choked sob, the next thing Bakura knew he had a happily crying and very high pitched Ryou clinging to his waist.

“I passed Bakura!” Ryou squeaked between noisy hiccups and loud sobs, “I really passed!”

Bakura couldn't help but grin as he hugged Ryou back, only slightly annoyed that his T-shirt was becoming damp. “Nerd.” He smiled affectionately, lifting one hand to ruffle Ryou’s white hair as he pulled back and wiped his face dry.

“This is a cause for celebration!” Bakura walked over to the fridge and returned a moment later with two beer bottles and a bottle opener. He opened one and pushed it towards Ryou, who wrinkled his nose at the smell and pushed it back.

“I’m not eighteen yet.”

Bakura rolled his eyes as if Ryou was being deliberately picky, but took a swig from the beer himself.

“Well then, cigarettes!” This time he reached into his pocket and flourished his gold lighter and an opened packet of Richmond superkings.

“I didn't become eighteen in the last two minutes Bakura.”

“Then I guess, Chinese takeaway?” Bakura suggested with a grin as he raised the takeaway leaflet he had been reading

“Yeah!”

Bakura chuckled and pushed the leaflet towards Ryou, “order whatever you want, just get chow mein for me.”

Ryou’s brow furrowed slightly, “is that all you want?”

“I’m not very hungry.”

Ryou couldn't hide his surprise and Bakura rolled his eyes before heading out of the back door for his celebratory cigarette, leaving a relieved Ryou to spend approximately twenty minutes studying the menu before finally deciding to order what he always did.

Bakura let his thoughts wander as he smoked his way to an early grave, occasionally tapping the ash onto the ground to disperse into the wind. He was happy that Ryou had done well in his exams, and from the looks of it Ryou was happy too. But there was a strange feeling in his stomach that he couldn't quite identify, he quickly ran through all the emotions he knew, which were surprisingly few.

Jealousy.

That was definitely one part of it, the way his stomach had churned and he had momentarily hated Ryou. He wasn't sure why he was jealous though, was it because Ryou was smarter than him? Surely he had always known that, Ryou was something of a nerd, always doing homework or researching or watching boring documentaries. It was also no secret that his career aspirations tended to be of a professional level, vet, doctor, and briefly, astronaut.

A sudden pang of something akin to fear shot through Bakura’s stomach and he almost dropped his cigarette, raising it for a shaky drag. Surely if Ryou still wanted to get a good job he would need more education, that meant going to University in a couple of years. Bakura knew from watching crappy TV shows what University meant. University meant parties, drinking copious amounts of alcohol and sleeping with anything that moved. University meant freedom, independence. University was the way to break free of oppressive parents and to take your first steps into the world. University was, as far as Bakura knew, a virtually permanent residence for three years, or more.

“Three years.” He muttered to himself quietly, staring at his cigarette as it slowly burnt down in the light wind.

Three years was a long time. Of course, University meant meeting lots of people too, people who could all too easily replace Bakura. Ryou didn't have any real friends in school, and Bakura knew that was his fault. How was Ryou supposed to keep friends if they could never go to his house, if he was never allowed out, if he had to spend all his time at school doing work instead of socializing because he was a mixture of slave and punching bag at home.

Before the accident, Bakura would have simply refused it. Told him he wasn't going and that was final, but the accident had made him realize something. Reverting back to his old ways would only make Ryou hate him again and undo all the hard work he had put into gaining Ryou’s trust.

In a state as near to panic as the Thief had ever felt, he flung open the back door and walked over to Ryou, who was, as anticipated, studying the leaflet with an indecisive pout.

“Ryou.” He said, trying to sound calm.

“No smoking in the house.” Ryou flat lined, eyes not leaving the leaflet even as his nose wrinkled slightly.

Bakura blinked, then realized his cigarette still smoked between his fingers, growling lightly before throwing it out of the open window by the sink.

“Are you going to University?” Bakura asked, sounding more demanding and alarmed than he would have liked.

Ryou lowered the takeaway leaflet to the table in surprise, eyes studying Bakura in slight suspicion. “Not right now. I need to get A-levels first.”

“But you are going?” Bakura pressed, annoyed at the evasive answer he had been given.

“Well.” Ryou sighed and shuffled in his seat. “I don’t really know any more. I did want to, but...”

“But what?” Bakura demanded, earning a small glare from Ryou, who looked torn.

“Well, I don’t know if I want to go away for that long. I might just do it from home.”

“You can do that?” Bakura queried, feeling hope bloom in his stomach.

Ryou nodded, “they send you all the work and you do it then go to summer school.”

“But don’t you want to get independence and stuff?”

Ryou looked at Bakura like he’d just grown a second head. “I've been looking after you for years, I think I’m independent enough.”

Bakura felt suddenly guilty, an emotion he generally ignored or didn't even experience.

“So don’t you want to get away from that?”

“You mean from you?” Ryou said, reading between the lines expertly. “Not really.”

Bakura frowned, “why not?”

“You’d be hopeless without me.” Ryou responded teasingly, standing to grab the house phone. “Now be a good Thief and get out some chopsticks.”

Bakura gave a mock bow which made Ryou giggle as he left the room to phone for the Chinese. He couldn't help but wonder if there was a second reason to why Ryou didn't want to leave, but he quickly brushed it away as wishful thinking and retrieved chopsticks like he’d been told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at- motorcycle-chan.tumblr.com  
> or DMMd side blog- minky-way.tumblr.com


	12. Chapter 12

A quiet voice speaking in the front room caught Bakura’s attention after he had dragged himself out of bed and down the stairs, cursing the cold. It seemed like Ryou was talking to himself, so Bakura used his thieving skills to press himself flush to the hallway wall and listen in.

“I’ll ask him now. Yeah, he doesn't think I know he’s there.”

Bakura almost choked at this, eyes flashing indignantly even as Ryou’s cheekily smiling face appeared in the doorway beside him.

“Morning Bakura.”

“It’s half past one.” Bakura monotoned, bypassing his overly cheery Hikari in favor of the coffee he so much needed.

“Oh.” Ryou’s face fell, “Well good afternoon then!”

Bakura rolled his eyes and stomped into the kitchen, pouring a stupid amount of coffee into a mug and pressing the switch to boil the kettle. He stoically ignored Ryou, who had chosen to follow him, still on the phone to whoever it was.

“Um, Bakura?”

“Yes Ryou, what?” Bakura sighed.

“You know there’s no water in the kettle, right?”

Bakura heard laughter coming from the phone and growled at whoever dared to mock him, grabbing the kettle angrily and stalking to the sink, muttering about shadow powers and cursed rings.

“Bakura?” Ryou asked tentatively, he knew Bakura was moody when he first woke up, but this was pushing it, and he was still careful around him, just in case.

“For the love of Ra! What?” Bakura exclaimed, whirling around from the now steaming kettle to glare at Ryou out of puffy eyes, which somewhat ruined the effect.

Ryou actively flinched backwards and Bakura cursed himself silently.

“I was just going to ask if Joey could come round later.”

Bakura blinked, “who?”

“He’s a friend of mine.”

“You have friends?” Bakura asked, genuinely surprised, though realizing a second later what a stupid thing that was to say as Ryou’s face fell.

“I have one. I’d have more if it weren't for you.” Ryou whispered the last sentence, but Bakura heard anyway.

Bakura turned around to pour his coffee, trying to hide his guilt ridden face from Ryou. Busying himself with stirring his drink he shrugged uncaringly, “yeah, whatever.”

His coffee decorated the counter a moment later as Ryou glomped him from behind, wrapping his arms around his middle enthusiastically while bouncing up and down.

“Holy shit Ryou!” Bakura exclaimed as the contents of his mug continued to slosh around as Ryou continued to bounce excitedly. “Ryou!”

“Sorry Kura! I didn’t think you’d say yes.” Ryou explained, unlatching himself from the disgruntled Thief and racing to the phone. “He said yes Joey! Yeah, uh-huh. Sure! About... three? Okay! Yeah, later Joey!”

Bakura rubbed his temple as Ryou told the good news to his friend in tones far too loud for his liking before hanging up with a girlish giggle which made Bakura raise his eyebrow.

“What?” Ryou asked, noticing Bakura’s disbelieving look.

“Nothing.” Bakura remarked, turning away to smirk as he poured a fresh mug of coffee before whirling round with an impish grin. “You’re such a girl sometimes.”

“Am not!” Ryou immediately protested, though his pout and womanly pose, one hand on hip, knee slightly bent, ruined his argument.

“Oh you are so in denial.” Bakura teased, sipping his coffee and wincing. It was disgusting, maybe he had overdone it with the coffee, four spoonfuls was rather a lot. “Have you even seen yourself?”

Ryou glanced down at himself, flushed red as he noticed his pose and moved abruptly. Standing with his legs apart and his arms crossed over his chest but still pouting. He looked ridiculous and Bakura couldn't help but chuckle.

“What?” Ryou asked, clearly getting irritated now. “What about me is girly?”

Bakura raised an eyebrow, “how long do you have?”

Ryou just glared at him, bottom lip still protruding dramatically.

“Well, for starters you’re pouting.” Ryou’s lips promptly straightened, attempting a scowl. “You’re wearing a pink shirt.”

“It’s salmon!” Ryou objected, defending his shirt, which he was very fond of.

Bakura ignored him and continued his list, “you use moisturizer.”

“It keeps my skin soft!” Ryou exclaimed, before looking to the side in embarrassment. “It’s saying stuff like that isn't it?”

Bakura nodded proudly. “Good, now you’re getting it!”

“Are you done?” Ryou asked, tapping his foot impatiently, another womanly trait.

“Not quite.” Bakura grinned, flashing his sharp canines as he advanced on Ryou. “You use women's shampoo, vanilla, if I’m not mistaken.”

Ryou bit back a retort about how nice it made his hair smell and another about split ends, instead gasping slightly as Bakura placed his hands on his waist.

“You go in here, like a girl.” Bakura continued, moving his hands to Ryou’s chest, then his arms. “No muscle to speak of. You’re just very.. dainty.”

Ryou spluttered loudly and moved away from Bakura’s hands, clearly horribly offended.

He glared at the Thief, “whatever. Joey’s coming round soon, so go get a shower. You stink.”

“Oh Ryou, I’m hurt.” Bakura said, holding a hand to his heart dramatically and extending the other towards his Hikari, whose frown faltered at his childish behavior. Bakura chucked and left the room, coffee in hand, lingering outside the doorway to listen to Ryou’s self pitying speech.

“Girly. Girly? Well I suppose this is kind of pink.. but not like a womanly pink. Oh who am I kidding, like there’s a manly pink.”

Bakura chuckled into his mug as he drank, enjoying Ryou’s nonsensical conversation with himself.

“And it’s hardly my fault if I have a waist. I can’t exactly help it.”

Bakura could imagine Ryou’s expression, the pout would definitely be back. He’d be an adorable mixture of confused, hurt and defiant. Bakura choked on his coffee as he realized he had just used the word adorable to describe his Hikari. He blamed it on the fact he hadn't woken up properly and drained his coffee. Ryou’s tone, which was now too quiet for Bakura to be able to distinguish words from had turned a shade more upset. He sighed quietly, he hadn't meant to actually upset Ryou. But the Hikari had always been rather susceptible to teasing.

Ryou didn't notice Bakura’s presence behind him until arms wrapped around his neck, causing him to stop his self-pitying and squeak in alarm. He felt a chin rest on his head and the unmistakable sound of Bakura inhaling deeply before letting out a content breath. “Well that shampoo does make your hair smell nice.” Bakura whispered, running a few strands through his fingers absently, completely unaware that Ryou had frozen beneath him. He chuckled, imagining the blush that was no doubt covering his Hikari’s usually pale face, before unwrapping his arms from Ryou’s neck and spinning him round on his stool. He was of course, correct, Ryou’s face was a vivid scarlet and he was gaping like a fish. Bakura chuckled again and reached a large hand up to ruffle his hair, smiling as Ryou finally reacted, squirming away with a series of unimpressed noises.

Bakura felt that was enough teasing for the moment, and with one last playful smirk left the room, leaving a very warm, very confused Ryou behind him.

* * *

 

Bakura sharpened his dagger collection in the living room at Ryou’s request, as he had insisted he meet Joey, while Ryou read. Though, by read, he meant his eyes flitted between an upside down book and the clock so frequently Bakura was sure he must be getting queasy.

An overly loud knock sounded on the front door and Ryou jumped up with an excited squeal, book dropped to the floor and forgotten. Bakura rolled his eyes and sheathed his daggers, deciding it might not be the best first impression to be surrounded by tools of torture. He instead picked up the book, some crappy romance, and placed it on the coffee table, cursing himself for acting like a housewife all the while. He wasn't quite sure where to place himself in the room, hovering over each piece of furniture uncertainly before giving up and slumping into the chair he had just vacated. He heard quiet voices, one with a distinct accent and drawling, lazy way of speaking, and Ryou’s, which oozed enthusiasm and happiness.

A moment later Ryou walked into the front room, flashing Bakura a smile that was both warning and genuinely content. He was followed by a rather lanky boy with a mop of yellow blonde hair who walked with a carefree slouch that Bakura could tell was a result of low intelligence. Ryou gestured for Joey to take a seat, which he did with far too much enthusiasm for Bakura’s liking, who winced as the sofa squeaked unhappily. Bakura raised his eyebrow as the stranger slouched as if he were in his own home, commenting to Ryou in what Bakura now recognized as a Brooklyn accent how comfy it was.

“You’d think he’d never sat on a sofa before...” Bakura muttered to himself, amused at how pleased the boy was.

“Bakura.” Ryou said, completely ignoring his rude comment. “This is Joey, he’s a friend from school.”

Bakura held in a chuckle as Joey raised his head, which had been examining the fabric of the sofa he resided on. His face drained of all color and he swallowed loudly as he lay eyes on the Thief. Bakura smirked widely, showing sharp canines, deliberately intimidating the boy who couldn't meet his eyes.

“I know, you told me when he rang.” Bakura deadpanned, amused as ever by his Hikari’s ridiculous British politeness.

The atmosphere was icy, Bakura swore he could have heard a pin drop in the awkward silence. Ryou remained stood in the center of the room, twiddling his thumbs nervously and glancing between the two boys. One wary and one clearly enjoying the way he had gained control of the situation so easily, smirk proving this.

“Um.” Ryou finally said, looking pleadingly at the carpet, as if it could diffuse the situation or offer help.

“For the love of Ra would you sit down?” Bakura snapped, “It’s your fucking house.”

Ryou made a small startled noise and immediately plonked himself on the sofa next to Joey, perching on the edge awkwardly and looking horribly out of place.

“Ryou.” Bakura growled, trying not to lose his patience. “Do you not know how to sit down?”

Ryou blinked at him blankly, mouth dropping in confusion. “What?”

Bakura had about had enough of this, it was fucking ridiculous.

“Relax would you!” Bakura spat, before turning his glare to Joey, who shrank back into the sofa. “And you! Stop looking so scared, I’m not a fucking psychopath!”

Silence followed his outburst, broken only when Ryou finally settled into his seat comfortably, and, to Bakura’s surprise started giggling.

“Something funny Hikari?” Bakura questioned, trying to sound threatening despite the cute scene before him.

Ryou raised his hand to cover his mouth as he laughed, undeterred by the concerned stares of both Bakura and Joey. “Sorry! It’s just..” Ryou paused to take a shaky breath in which Bakura got a glimpse of Ryou’s amused face, flushed red. “Do you genuinely think you’re not a psychopath?”

Bakura frowned, he had never really considered it. “Yeah, I mean, a sociopath maybe, but I wouldn’t say I was a psychopath.”

Ryou smiled at Bakura and shook his head fondly. “Sorry to break it to you Bakura, but you’re definitely a psychopath.”

“How’d you figure?”

“What were you doing before Joey arrived?” Ryou asked, glancing at Joey, pleased to notice he looked slightly less terrified now and more interested.

“Sharpening my daggers.” Bakura answered instantly, realizing as Ryou’s eyebrow raised and Joeys eyes widened that his answer wasn't exactly normal.

“Okay, and whats the thing you’re most proud of?”

Bakura had to think about this for a second, he hadn't done much that normal people would be proud of, but he had his own measures.

“That time I fought off seven guys at one.” Bakura smirked as Joey looked impressed.

“You ever put anyone into hospital?” Joey piped up, much to both Ryou’s and Bakura’s surprise.

“Twenty eight at the last count I think. You?” Bakura asked sarcastically, poking fun at Ryou’s little friend.

“Only four I think.” Joey said, counting on his fingers and muttering. “Yeah, four.”

“Seriously?” Bakura asked. “I’m impressed Ryou, I didn't know your friends were thugs.”

“He’s not a thug!” Ryou pouted. “He was in a gang for a bit, he’s not like that now.”

Bakura’s face fell at this revelation but ignored Ryou’s expression, which pleaded at him to let the subject change to more pleasant things.

“You ever been stabbed?” Bakura asked, nodding in Joey’s direction.

“Nawh, I was never into weapons, just used my fists. Got nicked by a bullet once though.”

“Can we talk about something else please?” Ryou practically begged.

Bakura felt a bit of guilt as Ryou turned his puppy dog eyes on him, but managed to ignore it, figuring he’d butt out of the conversation soon and let Ryou talk to his friend.

“That’s not that big a deal.” Bakura said dismissively. “I’m covered in scars, aren't I Ry?”

Ryou blushed furiously as he met Bakura’s teasing eyes, knowing full well what Bakura was referring to. “You've got a few.”

Bakura chuckled darkly, leaning forwards. “Had to get surgery after the last one, punctured a lung.”

Joey’s eyes widened in respect. “Shit, that must’ve been bad. Bet it was agony.”

Bakura shrugged nonchalantly, pleased at how easy it had been to impress Joey. “Wasn't too bad.”

“Oh please.” Ryou said disdainfully. “You were in so much pain you couldn't move. You had to call me for help, you were terrified, pleading for me to help you. Then when you eventually came back you collapsed in the garden like an old man.”

Bakura’s mouth fell open at the out of character, and rather cruel speech his Hikari had made, and despite himself, he felt more proud than he did angry.

The atmosphere turned tense again and Bakura forced himself to laugh, “Wow Ry, when did you get a backbone?”

Ryou merely raised an eyebrow smugly at him before turning to Joey, raising his middle finger at Bakura behind his back. “Anyway, we can talk about school while Bakura gets us some drinks.”

Bakura raised an eyebrow, but growled and left the room to follow Ryou’s command, grumbling about being under the thumb all the while.

* * *

 

When Bakura returned from the kitchen with three cans of fizzy drink Joey and Ryou were talking animatedly about school, well, Ryou was. Joey was sprawled on the sofa, replying to Ryou’s many questions with a casual drawl.

Bakura grunted at Ryou as he handed him a can, which was received with a warm smile that made Bakura scowl. He passed the other can to Joey, who took it with a, “thanks pal.”

Bakura was too busy thinking about how warm Ryou’s smile made him feel to tell Joey that they were in fact not pals, and that he would never be pals with trash like him.

“So how is everyone?” Ryou asked, practically bouncing.

“They’re okay.” Joey shrugged, opening his drink and taking a long drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand afterwards as a trickle of liquid slid down his chin. “Yugi and Yami are as married as ever. Anzu’s dating some boy from her dance classes. Tristan’s always with Serenity, but she likes him so I don’t wanna stop her from seeing him, ya know?”

“Mmm.” Ryou nodded, face twisted in sympathy. “Well he’s your best friend, so it must be weird. You just need to trust him.”

Joey nodded, immediately happy again and began examining his can, giving Bakura an opportunity to clarify.

**‘Serenity?’**

_‘His little sister.’_

**‘Oh.’**

“How’s Mokuba and Rebecca?” Ryou queried, opening his own can and taking a small sip.

Joey snorted, presumably his own version of a laugh. “Flirtin’ all tha time, they should just get togetha already, ya know?”

Ryou smiled fondly, “Yeah, I know, I've told Mokuba before but he’s too nervous to do anything about it.”

**‘And to think I thought you had no friends.’**

Ryou ignored Bakura and smirked wickedly at Joey.

“Speaking of being nervous, have you talked to him yet?”

Bakura’s ears pricked up at this and he leaned forwards slightly, suddenly aware of how flustered Joey looked and the blush that had crept up his neck.

“Nawh, not really.” Joey’s voice trailed off and he avoided Ryou’s eyes.

“Did something happen!” Ryou demanded, practically leaping forwards, eyes aglow. “You have to tell me everything!”

Bakura couldn't help but be reminded of a small girl at a sleepover as Ryou grabbed a cushion and hugged it to his chest, demanding that Joey give him details.

**‘I didn't know you were a gossip Hikari.’**

_‘Oh shut up.’_

Joey was now an unhealthy shade of purple, and was staring intensely at his drink.

“Joeeeey!” Ryou whined, “you have to tell me!”

Joey sighed, but opened his mouth and began to speak, eyes flickering around the room nervously. “He mighta, kinda, asked me ta go to the end of school dance with him.”

Bakura nearly had a heart attack at the sudden shrill squeal that left Ryou as he glomped an alarmed looking Joey.

“That’s great Joey!” Ryou beamed, still hugging Joey, who laughed and hugged him back, rubbing his head in a way that looked painful.

At least until he noticed Bakura glaring daggers at him across the room, fighting the urge to walk over and tear them apart. Joey gulped and peeled Ryou off him, offering an apologetic if not slightly confused look to Bakura, who moved his hand away from his dagger pouch.

“You said yes, right?”

“Yeah. I can’t believe he asked me! He’s gunna pick me up in his Lamborghini.”

Ryou let out an impressed whistle. “The green one?”

“Yellow.” Joey corrected.

“Oh wow, you’re so lucky.”

Bakura’s glare intensified again at Ryou’s dreamy expression, too overcome with jealousy to wonder just how many school kids had one Lamborghini, yet alone a variety of colors.

“Nawh, not really. He’s probably only kiddin, or It’ll be a bet or somethin.”

“Yeah but still, to go to the dance with Kaiba! That’s big, you’ll be in all the papers.”

Bakura practically choked on his drink at Ryou’s positive words, attracting the attention of both boys.

“You’re going out with Kaiba?” He asked incredulously, eyes roaming over his tattered clothes and disheveled appearance.

“What’s it to you?”

Bakura grinned nastily, preparing to run this boy’s confidence into the ground, ignoring Ryou’s mental prods to leave him alone.

“Nothing, I just didn't think Kaiba would go anywhere near someone like you.”

“What’s that s’posed ta mean?” Joey demanded, eyes lit up indignantly.

“Well look at you, your clothes look ancient, you clearly don’t have two brain cells to rub together, did you even pass any exams? And an ex-gang member? The press’ll have a field day with that.”

Joey glared at Bakura with unconcealed hate, but his honey eyes looked hurt, like a kicked puppy.

“Bakura! Stop it!” Ryou demanded, looking as hurt as Joey.

“I’m goin’, sorry Ry.” Joey announced, standing from the sofa and leaving the room without a second glance at Bakura, followed by an upset looking Ryou.

Bakura could hear the sound of Ryou apologizing from his chair, smirking to himself as he heard the boy try to defend him and Joey saying it wasn't Ryou’s fault that Bakura was an asshole. The door shut fairly soon after and Bakura retrieved his daggers, watching them gleam in the light.

He was so distracted that he didn't even notice when Ryou appeared in the doorway.

“It’s not Joey’s fault.”

“Hm?” Bakura asked, looking over to him. “What isn't?”

“His Dad drinks all their money so he can’t buy new clothes. He has to work three jobs and go to school, so his grades are bad. He can’t do work at home because his Dad’s always drunk and beating him up or pimping him out.”

Bakura paused in his twirling of the knife.

“Shit.” He remarked quietly, he had just been trying to piss Joey off for getting too close to Ryou, he hadn't realized he was that fucked up.

Ryou scoffed quietly. “You knew how much I was looking forward to seeing him. Why do you always ruin everything?”

Bakura didn't have to look up to know there were tears in Ryou’s eyes, his thick voice and occasional sniffs told him. He merely sighed and resumed twirling his knife, faking indifference like he used to. The difference was, it didn't use to hurt this much.

“Fuck you Bakura.” Ryou sobbed, fleeing the room with tears flowing thick and fast down his face.

When he was gone Bakura stared at his reflection in the dagger, usual cocky smirk replaced by a frown. He had once again upset Ryou, weeks of being nice and gaining his trust had just been ruined. Why? Because he had been jealous. Jealous of that straggly blonde, jealous of his other friends. If he listened carefully he could hear Ryou sobbing through the mind link. It was heartbreaking. His eyes hardened in the blade of the dagger and he threw it away from him with a frustrated yell, curling up on the sofa to stare at the ceiling angrily.

* * *

 

“Ryou! Open the fucking door already.” Bakura shouted, leaning on said door with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other, deeply unimpressed with the rooms inhabitant.

“Fuck sake.” He muttered to himself, taking a deep swig of the beer and then a long drag of the cigarette. Ryou had been in his room for two days now and Bakura was starting to get pissed off.

“Ryou! I’m smoking in the house! Aren't you gunna come tell me off? Huh? RYOU!” Bakura hammered on the door, alternating between rough kicks and punches which dented the soft wood. Bakura knew it would be all too easy to break the door, one well aimed kick could do it.

But the door bore scars. He’d broken it once before, a couple of years ago. He’d come in, senselessly drunk and decided to have some fun with his little punching bag. Unfortunately at the time Ryou had decided to barricade himself in his room, and by barricade, he had locked the door, being too weak to push any of his furniture against the door. Bakura had flown into a rage and essentially smashed the door into pieces, which had later been badly fixed by Ryou with a glue gun, duct tape and some nails.

Bakura remembered what followed all too well. That was the occasion when he had thrown Ryou down the stairs. Not pushed, literally thrown. Ryou had always been skinny and it was far too easy to pick him up and throw him. The look of sheer terror in Ryou’s eyes and his scream as he fell, while not affecting Bakura through his drunken haze, were now burnt into his memory and often popped up in surfaced in horrifying recurring dreams. That was also the only time he had continued to beat Ryou when he had regained consciousness. He kicked and hit him again and again, until he was coughing up blood and pleading for Bakura to stop. He passed out multiple times, but Bakura just continued his beating with no mercy. That was also the reason Ryou never wore short sleeves, aside from the many cuts Bakura had made on his arms, there were burns. That was probably part of the reason Ryou didn't like his smoking, it reminded him of the small, round burns that littered his arms.

Bakura was growing steadily angrier, a growl rising in his throat to rip out as an enraged cry as he lifted his leg and kicked the door, hard, once.

Bits of splintered wood and the occasional bent nail sprayed into the room where Ryou was curled up on the corner of his bed, rocking backwards and forwards with his hands over his ears.

The image was so pitiful that Bakura paused on the threshold, just staring at Ryou’s terrified form, rocking, rocking, rocking.

“Ry?” Bakura asked, dropping his beer onto the floor of the hallway, where the golden liquid seeped into the worn carpet. Ryou whimpered at the sound of his name and curled into himself tighter, fingernails stabbing into his palms as he gripped his knees painfully.

“Shit.” Bakura muttered, he had no idea what to do. “Shit, Ry.”

He approached the bed slowly, not wanting to make the boy any more scared than he already was. Ryou twitched imperceptibly as Bakura sat on the edge of his bed, making sure to leave some space between them, giving Ryou a chance to escape. Bakura perched on the bed awkwardly, feeling more and more like scum the longer he stayed in the room. He looked down at his cigarette, which had burnt down to nothing, he flicked it out into the hallway and went into his pockets to retrieve the packet. He was scrabbling through his pockets, trying to locate his lighter without success when he felt a small hand wrap around his.

He looked up to see Ryou kneeling beside him, eyes damp and face streaked with tear trails.

“Ry.” Bakura gasped, immediately giving up the search for his lighter, Ryou was more important than cigarettes right now.

“Smoking is hazardous to your health.” Ryou monotoned, reading the ominous writing on the packet.

Bakura didn't respond, but instead stared at Ryou in shock even as the cigarette packet was removed from his hand and placed on the bedside table.

“Second hand smoke kills.” Ryou continued, though Bakura was sure that hadn't been on the packet. When he looked back up he saw a small, timid, almost apologetic smile on Ryou’s face.

“Fucking hell Ryou.” Bakura sighed, giving in and wrapping the small boy in his arms, ignoring the alarmed squeak that left him.

“I’m sorry, Kura.” Ryou whispered, placing his own arms on Bakura’s back and leaning into his warmth.

Bakura sighed, “why do you always end up apologizing when it’s my fault?”

“Because you’re stubborn.” Ryou answered quickly, seeming to have cheered up very fast indeed.

“Tsk.” Bakura tutted dismissively. “I know one thing.”

“Hm?” Ryou asked, lifting his head from Bakura’s chest to look up at him through damp eyelashes, an image Bakura felt should have been too cliche, but managed to be almost endearing.

“You’re going to need a new door.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at- motorcycle-chan.tumblr.com  
> Or DMMd side blog- minky-way.tumblr.com


	13. Chapter 13

“Bakura!” The overly chirpy voice broke through Bakura’s sleeping mind and woke him.

“Wha?” He slurred, rolling over and burying his head into his pillow, trying to ignore his overly energetic, not to mention unwanted, wake up call.

“Guess who’s here!” Ryou practically shouted, or at least that’s how it sounded to Bakura’s newly conscious ears. The bed sank a minute later and Bakura became increasingly aware that Ryou was kneeling on it and bouncing like a child on Christmas morning.

“What time is it?” Bakura groaned, ignoring Ryou’s question in favour of a more logical start to the day.

“Quarter to nine.” Ryou answered quickly. “Guess who’s here!”

“Oh my Ra.” Bakura sighed, fighting the urge to smother himself in his duvet.

“Nope, not him.” Ryou joked, giggling to himself at his amusingness even as Bakura growled and threw the cover off himself.

Ryou was knelt on his bed, frozen like a rabbit in the headlights as Bakura glared at him out of tired eyes, white hair sticking up at even more ridiculous angles than usual, basically a white frizz surrounding his face.

“Whoever it is better be important or I swear to God I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

Ryou gulped audibly and made to slide off Bakura’s bed and out of the room, though a pale hand around his wrist stopped him.

“So tell me, Hikari dearest. Who in the everloving fuck did you drag me out of bed before midday to see?” Bakura hissed, sarcasm laced with true malice at being awoken at such an atrocious hour, in his opinion at least.

“Mariku.” Ryou squeaked, growing more aware by the second of his hand going numb in the Thief’s vice like grip.

“Oh.” Bakura remarked, releasing Ryou’s wrist in favour of using his fingers to rub feeling back into it, pleased to see it turn slighly pinker as it regained blood flow.

“Not a morning person, are you?” Ryou commented as his hand was finally returned to him, back in it’s normal state.

Bakura merely shot him a halfhearted glare as he eased himself out of bed, turning his back to Ryou and stretching, groaning in satisfaction as his back and shoulders cracked loudly.

Ryou remained perched on his bed, doing what anybody else might have called watching the show. Ryou however, preferred the term observing, so that was his current occupation. He observed the way Bakura’s spine showed clearly through his pale skin when he stretched forwards, and observed his deltoids contracting as he popped his shoulders. He watched as Bakura stood from the bed, realizing for the first time that Bakura slept in just boxers and swallowing dryly.

Bakura yawned and stretched once more, lacing his fingers together and reaching upwards, giving Ryou a perfect view of his entire body tensed and far more bare than he’d usually get to see it.

Ryou blushed and looked away, aware he was invading Bakura’s privacy, despite the fact that Bakura could have asked him to leave had he wanted. When Ryou turned back Bakura was sliding on yesterdays skinny jeans, covering his legs, to Ryou’s slight disappointment. He however, didn't pull on the t-shirt he had worn yesterday and instead walked over to his chest of drawers, removing the hairbrush from the top and returning to the bed. He began to tear the brush through his mop of horrifically tangled white hair, the sound of the brush going over the knots like torture to Ryou, who loved his hair. Bakura grunted as it got stuck on a particularly big tangle and yanked the brush through, pulling his head to the side and no doubt hurting his scalp. He continued this way for about five minutes and his hair was still a birds nest, all he had done was hurt his head.

“Give me that.” Ryou eventually snapped, grabbing the brush off him and turning him so his back was to him. “You’ll tear all your hair out if you tug at it like that. You should start from the bottom and work up, that way you’re not dragging the knots down.”

Bakura stayed silent and seemed to be sulking as Ryou carefully brushed his hair, not wanting to admit that it was indeed less painful and probably more effective when Ryou did it for him.

Ryou carefully worked his way through all of Bakura’s hair until it sat as usual, two stubborn bat-wings sticking up at the front that wouldn't stay flat despite Ryou’s best efforts. He figured they suited the Thief anyway. Ryou was somewhat reluctant to leave Bakura’s hair, which he had realized was far softer than it looked, and was almost silky. Ryou couldn't help but feel slightly jealous.

“Why is your hair so soft?” Ryou asked, pouting as he ran his hands through the white hair before him.

Bakura shrugged, the action knocking Ryou’s hand from his head to rest on his shoulders, which were warm and broad. “You know, asking things like that make you sound like such a woman.”

Ryou glowered and went to hit Bakura, who ducked away skillfully, sliding off the bed to stand in the center of the room, arms spread wide, inviting Ryou to try his luck. Ryou was growing increasingly irritated by Bakura calling him a woman, and ran at him, with what aim in mind he wasn't sure. He didn't however, expect Bakura to grab him round the middle and fling him onto his bed, landing on his back with a surprised squark.

He also didn't expect Bakura to crawl over him on all fours, effectively trapping him with his limbs as well as giving him an excellent view of his naked chest.

“B-Bakura?” Ryou asked uncertainly, not liking the wicked gleam in the Thief’s eyes.

“You say you’re not the woman, look who’s on top.” Bakura’s smirk grew as Ryou turned bright red and averted his eyes to the side, too embarrassed to look at Bakura.

“We’re keeping Mariku waiting.” Ryou eventually said.

“This’ll only take a minute.” Bakura reassured, lowering himself onto his elbows so he was even closer to Ryou.

“Is that what you tell the girls? No wonder you’re single.” Ryou observed dryly, surprising himself at his own wit.

Bakura looked genuinely taken aback and Ryou smirked proudly, having rendered the Thief speechless.

“That’s dirty Hikari.” Bakura eventually crooned, voice so low it sent shivers up Ryou spine, tilting his head so he spoke directly into his ear, breath tickling his neck. “Besides, we both know I’d last much longer.”

Ryou’s face was on fire, that was the only way he could describe it. He didn't think he’d ever been so uncomfortable in his entire life. His mouth was hanging open in a mixture of surprise and horror and his imagination was doing things it shouldn't be.

“My, my. You do have naughty thoughts Hikari.” Bakura teased, chuckling when he felt Ryou freeze underneath him.

“Wha- How?” Ryou spluttered, he was certain the mind link was well sealed off.

Bakura chuckled right into Ryou’s ear, an experience he couldn't begin to describe.

“I was guessing.” Bakura smirked, moving back from Ryou’s neck to see his face light up in a mixture of realization and growing annoyance.

“You absolute-“ Ryou began angrily, when Bakura swooped down to linger millimeters away from his face, smirk set upon his face as Ryou’s breath hitched involuntarily.

Bakura waited a second longer, regarding the boy underneath him curiously, before moving to playfully rub noses with his Hikari, in what he had heard was called an Eskimo kiss.

He was on his feet and pulling on a clean shirt before Ryou had the time to react, standing in the doorway to his room with a bored expression and a skin tone the same as usual, a harsh contrast to Ryou's flushed face and neck.

“Come on Ry, we’re keeping Mariku waiting.” He remarked casually as Ryou finally sat up, bright red and looking incredibly flustered.

“Bakura..” Ryou growled lowly, annoyed at having been tricked into Bakura’s bizarre game.

Bakura merely made a come hither motion with his finger before legging it down the stairs with an irritated Ryou running after him, planning revenge.

“I’m going to kill you!” Ryou announced, although he wasn't sure what his plan was when he caught up to the Thief, maybe a sharp slap on the head would do it.

“You’ll have to catch me first.” Bakura laughed, turning into the hall and stopping suddenly, causing Ryou’s socked feet to slide on the tiled floor and send him propelling into Bakura’s back with a muffled protest.

Within seconds Bakura had Ryou’s head tucked under his arm in a headlock, though it was less aggressive than it would have been with anyone else, Bakura didn't want to break his neck. Not yet anyway.

“Do you give up?” Bakura smirked down at Ryou, who struggled feebly.

“No.” He proclaimed, pouting.

Or he was pouting, until he saw his opportunity.

“Ow! What the fuck Ry, did you just.. bite me?”

An innocent smile on a cherubic face met him, “I wouldn't do that Kura.”

A dark, menacing chuckle distracted them from their fighting, a blessing for Ryou, who had the feeling tickling might become involved, his ultimate weakness.

“And here I thought you two didn't get along.” The voice that matched the speaker boomed through the halls, chocolatey and rich.

“Mariku.” Bakura nodded, smirk growing to levels that would scare any lesser mortal.

“Bakura. Long time no see.” The speaker walked further into the hall, so Ryou could see his features better. Ryou had only seen Mariku once before, he had visited while Ryou’s arm was in a cast and had offered to make coffee so Ryou didn't have to. As Ryou recalled, he had been a bit overly friendly, almost flirtatious, something Bakura punished Ryou for later, though it hadn't been his fault.

“And Ryou. Always a pleasure.” Mariku purred, reaching forwards to take and kiss Ryou’s hand, eyes lingering on his as he did. They were a deep purple, almost smoky and were the kind of eyes you could get lost in. Ryou was so distracted by them that he failed to notice Bakura clenching his hands into fists and growling softly.

“H-hello, Mariku.” Ryou managed to stutter as his hand was released, ducking behind Bakura slightly, intimidated by his huge height and bizarre appearance.

He was slightly taller than Bakura, which of course made him considerably taller than Ryou, who’d probably reach up to his chest at most, and just about reached Bakura’s chin. He was wearing the same clothes he had worn at their first meeting, tan cargo pants, a muscle top that was definitely doing it’s title justice and a purple cape. He also wore a surprising amount of gold jewelry, a pair of large earrings, a necklace that sat flush to his skin, and bangles on each upper arm and wrist. His cloak was held in place by a golden chain and he wore black eyeliner under each eye, slanting down onto his cheekbones. His hair was, quite frankly, gravity defying, sticking up in huge sandy blonde spikes from his tanned skin.

“What do you want Mariku?” Bakura asked, irritated both by the way Ryou was staring at him as well as the fact that he hadn't yet had his morning coffee.

“How rude Bakura, couldn't I just want to see an old friend?” Mariku asked, his huge smiling suggesting otherwise.

“No.” Bakura replied bluntly.

Mariku laughed again, deep voice settling at the base of Ryou’s spine and tingling all the way up his back. “You know me too well Thief.” At this Mariku strolled into the living room, beckoning them to follow him as if it were not their house. Waiting til they settled themselves on sofas before sitting forward with a grin. “So, let’s talk business.”

* * *

“Do you mind if I smoke?”

“No.”

“Yes.” Ryou and Bakura spoke at the same time and engaged in a short battle of glares, which Bakura inevitably won. “Go ahead.” Ryou sighed.

He nodded his gratitude and lit up, Bakura following suit despite Ryou’s disgusted scowl.

As the thick smoke began to fill the room, and inadvertently Ryou’s lungs, he grew more and more glad he had chosen an armchair across the room from the pair.

“So, you want me for a job?” Bakura smirked smugly.

“Don’t flatter yourself Thief. I chose you because you’re the only one stupid enough to do it.” Mariku responded, glint in his eye growing as Bakura’s lip twitched in irritation.

Ryou laughed quietly and received an appraising look from Mariku and a glare from Bakura.

“What sort of job?” Bakura demanded, desperate to get Mariku’s searching eyes away from Ryou, who didn’t seem phased by the Egyptians obvious interest.

“Well, as you’d expect it’s a rather.. sensitive issue.” Mariku drawled, taking a drag of his cigarette, which looked very thin and breakable in his large fingers.

Bakura caught on immediately, “Ryou, go make us coffee.”

Ryou looked up from where he had been examining the fabric of his armchair at the sound of his name, meeting a pair of unimpressed red eyes and a pair of all too eager purple eyes.

“No.” Ryou announced, crossing his arms irritably. “I want to know what the job is.”

Mariku raised an amused eyebrow, smirk growing even wider, so it split his face. “An innocent little thing like you doesn’t want to dirty yourself in our business. So be a good boy and go get us some coffee.”

Mariku’s voice, though dripping with overly sweet condescension hid a steely undertone that Ryou recognised all too well, obey or suffer the consequences.

Ryou glared at Mariku but rose from his seat and left to make the coffee, making sure to ask Bakura later exactly what the job entailed.

* * *

 

“How much?” Bakura asked, eyes glowing brightly.

“Couple of pounds.” Mariku replied, blowing smoke out of his lips casually, grinning as Bakura’s eyes widened.

“That’s gotta be..” Bakura trailed off, lips moving silently as he counted. “Thirty thousand at least.”

Mariku’s smirk widened nastily at the hungry look in Bakura’s eyes, “try fifty four. This is high grade product Bakura, not that crap you used to sell in backstreets to junkies.”

“Where did you even get it?” Bakura asked, wondering just how much he knew about the man before him.

“I know people.” Mariku shrugged, like it was normal to know _those_ sort of people. “They’d be willing to pay you big money, all you have to do is get it through security.”

“What kind of money are we talking here.” Bakura queried, deciding he’d list the pro’s of accepting the job before listing the con’s, which would be considerably bad.

“They’d easily get 250 for it, so your cut would be, about 25 I think, depends how well you do the job of course.”

“Twenty five thousand?” Bakura breathed. “Fuck.”

Mariku laughed darkly, well aware he had the Thief right where he wanted him. “Just think about it. They don’t want it delivered for a couple of weeks.”

“What if I say no?”

“I have someone else all lined up, not a very trustworthy guy though.”

“And I am?” Bakura asked, questioning Mariku’s logic.

“Well no, but I figured you’d look less suspicious. Especially if you took Ryou.” Mariku tried to say passively, but Bakura’s hand reached out to slam him into the back of the couch fiercely, curling around his thick neck.

“What does he have to do with this?” Bakura growled.

Mariku barely blinked at the hand wrapped around his neck, “Honestly, you never used to care for him. Now you’re practically married.”

“I do not care for him. Now spit it out, Tomb keeper.” Bakura hissed angrily.

“You could pretend to be brothers.” Mariku sighed as Bakura looked blank. “A family trip to England, visiting your estranged parents. An overexcited Ryou clinging onto your arm and nobody would look twice.”

“And what if I got caught?”

“You wouldn't. You’d look far too shady by yourself, you practically scream criminal.”

Bakura sat back in his seat, smiling slightly at the backhanded compliment.

“I’ll think about it.”

Mariku grinned from ear to ear, “That’s all I’m asking.”

Bakura grunted dismissively, wondering how to convince Ryou.

Said Hikari walked into the room a moment later, three mugs carefully held in his slim hands. He smiled as he passed Bakura his mug, making his stomach lurch inexplicably as he returned the smile, something Mariku didn't miss, chuckling to himself quietly as Ryou passed him his own drink.

“Black, how did you know?” Mariku asked, voice seeming to have dropped an octave, sending even deeper vibrations down Ryou’s spine.

“You seemed like the type.” Ryou replied, walking to his armchair with his mug, heavily diluted with milk and sugar.

“I suppose this is just a social call then?” Bakura asked a minute later, amused by the awkward atmosphere now that the business had been discussed.

“You seem surprised Thief.” Mariku crooned, enjoying Bakura’s annoyed expression. “Not get many visitors? Just you and cream puff over there.”

Ryou choked on his coffee as the bizarrely fond nickname was used, earning a lusty wink from Mariku that had his face turning red and him trying to hide behind his mug, without much success.

Bakura tried to stay composed, despite the twitching in his hands. “Did you come here solely to flirt with my Hikari?”

Ryou’s eyes widened and he busied himself gulping down his coffee, knowing this could only end badly.

“No. Though I must admit it is a tempting idea.” Mariku leered, fixing Ryou with a hungry stare that made his legs shake.

Bakura growled audibly and both other boys looked at him, Ryou in surprise and Mariku with a smug smirk.

“Alright Thief, I get it. Ryou is yours.” Bakura’s growl increased and his mouth opened, showing his glittering canines. “Pity though, he’s such a pretty thing.”

Ryou opened his mouth to complain about being referred to as an object but Bakura got there before him, drawing a dagger from Ra knew where and holding it to Mariku’s throat.

“Ryou is not a _thing_.” Bakura hissed, pressing the knife so a single drop of blood slid down the Egyptians neck to stain his cloak.

“Bakura!” Ryou gasped, not sure whether to be touched or horrified.

“It’s okay cream puff. I get it, property of Bakura. Not to be touched.” Mariku said, rolling his eyes and winking at Ryou again despite the knife which was slowly digging further into his throat.

“I’m not anybody’s property.” Ryou announced, somewhat put-out at the way they seemed to be discussing him as something to be owned. “So stop it Kura, before you stain the sofa.”

Both boys turned to stare at Ryou, who stood with his arms folded and a cross expression on his face, tapping his foot impatiently.

“Fucking Hell, Thief, proper house wife you've got there.” Mariku announced, laughing despite the fact that the knife dug in deeper with every chuckle.

Bakura grinned at Mariku and withdrew the knife, licking it clean despite Ryou’s disgusted noises. “I told you just this morning that you act like a woman. You’re not helping yourself.”

Ryou’s eye twitched and Bakura’s face fell, knowing that was a bad sign.

“You.” He barked, pointing at Mariku. “Get out before he changes his mind.”

“Yeah go on,” Bakura joined in with a grin and a twirl of his dagger. “Fuck off.”

Mariku rolled his eyes but lowered his empty mug and stood, turning to Bakura before he reached the door.

“Think about it. You've got my number.”

“Yeah.” Bakura nodded, flicking a look to Ryou whose eyes were narrowed in suspicion.

“Until we meet again, cream puff.” Mariku purred, giving Ryou another appreciative look that left the small boy feeling violated. He waved a goodbye and let himself out, Ryou quickly locking the door behind him.

“Are all your friends perverts?” He asked, more to himself really, but the Thief’s keen ears caught it anyway.

“No, just Mariku.” He replied, coming to stand behind Ryou. “Although, he is my only friend, and he barely counts, so technically..”

Ryou’s face fell slightly and he turned round, “what about me?”

“What about you what?” Bakura asked, puzzled.

“Aren't I your friend?” Ryou asked, genuinely curious. He’d never applied a title to his and Bakuras new relationship, and he was terribly interested.

“Well, yeah I guess. But, you’re my Hikari. So, it’s different.” Bakura fumbled for words, something Ryou had never known him do. “You’re..”

“I’m what?” Ryou asked, nudging his ribs eagerly.

“You’re one of a kind.” Bakura finished, face immediately flushing pink as he scowled in disgust at his sappiness. “You've turned me soft.”

“I know.” Ryou beamed, dancing up the stairs, stopping on the landing to yell back down. “You’re one of a kind too, Kura.”

Bakura was glad of the space between them, as it prevented Ryou seeing his face turn red and the soft smile that graced his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at- motorcycle-chan.tumblr.com  
> Or DMMd side blog- minky-way.tumblr.com


	14. Chapter 14

“I’ll do it.”

A huge smile broke across the Egyptians face and he stretched across the table to pat the Thief’s arm with unnecessary force that almost sent him face first into his coffee.

“I knew I could rely on you. What changed your mind?”

Bakura’s face flushed lightly and Mariku raised an eyebrow curiously at the unusual behaviour, in all their years of business dealings he had never once seen Bakura blush.

“Nothing in particular.” Bakura shrugged, pretending it was nothing special, though Mariku could tell it was a lie.

“Nothing cream puff said? Or did.” Mariku’s eyes gleamed hungrily at the idea of all the things Ryou could have done to change the Thief’s mind.

“No. You’re disgusting.” Bakura spat, stirring his coffee with the one of the wooden sticks the cafe used instead of spoons. A small part of his mind reminded him how bad it was for the environment, but he quickly pushed that Hikari style thinking aside.

“So, how is the little one?” Mariku asked nonchalantly, lighting up a cigarette despite the clear posters saying smoking indoors was illegal. A passing waitress approached as if to scold him, he glared at her darkly and she quickly bustled off to another part of the cafe. Being intimidating had its perks.

“He’s fine.” Bakura spoke through gritted teeth, Mariku’s interest in Ryou was creepy to say the least, he seemed to speak about him like a starving man spoke of a feast.

“Oh Bakura, don’t be so cold. Aren’t we old friends?” Mariku teased, knowing full well they were nothing of the sort.

“No.” Bakura retorted, gesturing for the waitress to refill his mug, which she did with trembling hands. “We’re not.”

Mariku licked his lips with an unusually long tongue, clearly annoyed. “Let me put this another way, Thief. I want Ryou. If you tell me he’s with you I’ll back off. So tell me, oh great Thief King, how is the little vanilla slice?”

Bakura felt his blood boil as Mariku spoke of Ryou with such disgusting desire in his voice, wishing he had an answer that would please him.

“He is my Hikari. Therefore he is my property. Don’t you have a Hikari of your own you can fuck?” Bakura growled, gripping his mug tightly even as it burnt his hand.

Mariku scoffed and slurped his coffee loudly, earning disapproving looks from an elderly couple at the next table.

“Who, Marik?” Mariku asked, tone dismissive. “Been there, done that, Thief.”

“Then do it again.”

“Hmm, I don’t think so.” Mariku paused, pretending to examine his nails. “You see, Thief. Marik was too... strong for my liking. But your little cream puff.”

Bakura dug his nails into the table as Mariku laughingly exhaled, eyes looking far away.

“Well, he’d just be so much fun to break. That pale skin, I bet it bruises easily doesn’t it, Thief? Those fragile bones snap like twigs.”

“You’re disgusting.” Bakura hissed.

Another raised eyebrow and a sneer. “You’re not one to talk, Thief. I know what you did to him. I know he didn’t break his arm tripping on the stairs, I know that black eye wasn’t from walking into a door. I saw the bloodstains on the wallpaper, the half used first aid kit.”

Bakura didn’t reply, he couldn’t. It was true after all, even if he didn’t do it anymore.

“You know you never appreciated him in the way I would. You never took full advantage of the situation did you?”

Bakura’s stomach turned and he felt sick as he realised what Mariku was implying. A low growl grew in his throat and his hand fingered the blade of his dagger longingly, wishing they were in a less public place so he could kill this scum.

“Do you know what I’d do to him Bakura? I’d take your little cream puff, all sweet and untouched and innocent.” Mariku laughed darkly, enjoying his twisted fantasies. “I’d make him mine. I’d touch every inch of that creamy white skin, mark it with my teeth and nails. I want to taste his tears and smell his blood.”

“You’re insane.” Bakura said, laughing nervously.

Mariku shrugged. “Probably.”

“I’ll do the job, okay? So stay away from Ryou.” Bakura threatened, hand tightening on his dagger.

“Fine. You can have your precious cream puff. But if you fail, if the job fails, he’s mine Thief.” Mariku stood to leave, throwing his cape around his shoulders dramatically, ignoring the curious looks of the other customers.

“I won’t fail.” Bakura insisted, determined. “And you’ll never get Ryou.”

Mariku smirked, “we’ll see Thief.”

With a swirl of his cloak and a glint of gold he left the cafe, the door slamming loudly behind him, silencing the other occupants. Bakura stood too, ignoring the brave waiter who insisted he paid for the coffee and striding out into the street, searching furiously for a flash of tanned skin or a mane of wild sandy blonde hair. But Mariku seemed to have disappeared into the evening like a shadow.

“FUCK!” Bakura yelled, kicking at a stray cat which yowled loudly and ran away to safety. He paused to lean against the wall of an abandoned church to light a cigarette with furiously trembling fingers, dropping the lighter twice in the process and almost setting his hair on fire. He took a deep drag and immediately felt calmer, breathing out a puff of white smoke into the cold air as his mind raced.

Ryou. He should check Ryou was okay. He fished his mobile out of his pocket, searching through his contacts, mostly junkies in need of a fix, until he found the right number and pressed call.

“Hello?” The chirpy voice called and Bakura’s knees nearly gave way with relief.

“Ry, it’s me.”

“Kura? Is something wrong?” There was worry in Ryou’s voice and it immediately made Bakura realise what he could lose.

“Listen to me, this is important.” Bakura paused to take a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “If Mariku comes to the house you are not to let him in, under no circumstances. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Ryou sounded uncertain. “What’s happened? What has he done?”

“It’s nothing, just, don’t let him anywhere near you okay?” Bakura tried to sound encouraging.

“Okay.” There was uncertainty in Ryou’s voice and Bakura knew there would be a barrage of questions when he got home. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Bakura laughed softly. “I’m fine, Ry. I’m on my way home now. I’ll pick up a pizza or something.”

“Ooh okay!” Ryou exclaimed, suddenly his usual overly happy self again.

“I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye Kura!”

Bakura stayed on the line until Ryou hung up, holding his phone in his hand tightly and slowly smoking his cigarette. When it had burnt down he felt calmer, ditching the butt on the cracked concrete pavement and striding off in search of something to take home for tea.

* * *

 

“Ry?” Bakura called as he pushed open the door to the house, slightly worried as the white haired boy didn’t immediately greet him as usual.

“I’m in the kitchen!”

Bakura grunted in affirmation and locked the door behind him with difficulty due to the pizza boxes he had balanced on his arm. As he walked towards the kitchen he became aware of an unusual smell, it almost smelt like... chocolate.

Bakura’s jaw dropped when he walked into the kitchen, it looked more used than it ever had. The oven was on and contained what looked like a tray of cupcakes, wire cooling racks on the counters held cookies in three different types. Bakura struggled finding somewhere to put the pizzas, and eventually placed them on an unoccupied chair, staring at Ryou with his mouth open.

Ryou hadn’t noticed Bakura enter the kitchen and was humming quietly as he washed up the pots from all the baking. His hair had been tugged into a ponytail, both for hygiene and practicality, as his hair tended to fall into his eyes. He had found one of his mother’s old aprons, pink with white hearts, and it was splattered with flour and cookie batter.

He only became aware of Bakura’s presence when he felt a thumb brush against his cheek, startling him. Bakura pulled back and looked at his thumb with interest, before sticking it into his mouth and licking it clean, nodding appreciatively.

“What?” Ryou breathed, wondering if Bakura had gone mad.

“You had chocolate on your face.” Bakura replied, shrugging off the gesture even as he furiously willed his cheeks not to redden.

“Oh. Thanks...” Ryou responded uncertainly. “Did you bring food?”

Bakura nodded and gestured towards the pizza boxes, “Though it seems unnecessary.”

Ryou giggled and Bakura noted how his ponytail bounced. “These are for after. I got kinda bored and decided to do some baking.”

“You don’t say.” He remarked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

Ryou sighed and rolled his eyes before grabbing the Thief’s arm and steering him towards the cooling cookies, despite his garbled protests.

“These are triple chocolate, these are oat and raisin and these are orange chocolate chip. Oh! And there are chocolate and vanilla cupcakes in the oven.” Ryou burbled, pointing at each of his creations proudly then turning to Bakura with a beaming smile.

“Can I try one?” Bakura asked, itching to try the orange chocolate chip.

“After tea.” Ryou insisted, walking to the fridge and rooting around inside, almost completely disappearing behind the door.

Bakura glanced over carefully then went to pick up one of the round, perfectly baked cookies. He thought his crime had gone unnoticed and smirked to himself preparing to bite into the cookie. A second later a sharp stinging pain ran through his hand and the cookie was snatched away by an irritated looking Ryou.

“I said after tea.” Ryou insisted, laughing as Bakura pouted childishly and rubbed his slapped hand. A moment later however the cookie was replaced with an ice cold beer and Bakura cheered up considerably. He flung an arm round an alarmed but giggling Ryou and steered him into the living room, picking up the pizzas and a film on the way.

* * *

 

The film was one they had both seen before, Shaun of the Dead, but it was another film with the perfect mixture of violence and humour, keeping both of the white haired boys happy.

“I still can’t believe how much pizza you ate.” Ryou commented, looking at Bakura with impressed eyes.

“I still have your baking to try.” Bakura smirked, though it faded as Ryou raised an eyebrow. “Right?”

Ryou maintained the no chance attitude for a minute longer, in which Bakura began to sulk, before jumping up with a teasing laugh and running to the kitchen. He returned with another cold beer for Bakura, which he received with an appreciative hair mussing that had Ryou complaining about knots. He also brought a plate which contained two of each thing he had made, offering them to Bakura with nervous eyes which watched as he finally got to sample the orange chocolate chip cookie he had tried to steal earlier.

Bakura chewed thoughtfully for a moment, tilting his head to the side and mocking an overly dramatic swallow, deciding now was the time to punish Ryou for denying him a cookie earlier.

“So?” Ryou practically begged, kneeling next to Bakura and leaning into his personal space to study his expression.

“Hmm...” Bakura tapped his chin with his finger, fake pondering. He waited til Ryou looked genuinely upset before answering with a smirk he couldn’t hold back. “It’s good.”

Ryou looked confused for a moment, before clocking the Thief’s smirk and the playful light in his eyes. “You ass! I thought they were disgusting!”

All the air was forced out of Bakura’s lungs as Ryou lunged at him, trying to wrestle the cookie away. “You don’t deserve it!”

Bakura laughed as Ryou continued to try and take away the undeserved cookie, crying unfair play when Ryou pushed his elbow into his stomach to wind him. Bakura continued to throw the cookie from arm to arm, always slightly out of Ryou’s reach, wiggling it in front of his face to pull it away just before his fingers touched it. After a good five minutes of fighting in which the film’s protagonists had reached the pub, Ryou distracted Bakura by announcing that someone was at the door. Bakura’s heart stopped for a second, wondering if it was Mariku, then Ryou made an almighty lunge for the cookie. Just as his hands had purchase Bakura unfroze, realising the nasty trick that had been played on him and tossing it into the air, catching it in his mouth a second later with a triumphant grin.

“Hmph.” Ryou exhaled grumpily, annoyed at having been caught out at the last minute. He crossed his arms moodily and stuck his bottom lip out dramatically, refusing to look at Bakura.

“Ryouuu.” Bakura sang, reaching forwards to run his fingers over the boy’s ribs.

Ryou squirmed and made an unimpressed noise, trying to avoid the Thief’s nimble fingers without much success as Bakura’s smirk took a nasty turn and he attacked Ryou’s sides mercilessly. Ryou tried to scramble away and ended up trapped at the end of the sofa, lying on his back with Bakura on top of him, tickling him so much he thought he would explode.

“Ba- Bakura!” Ryou’s voice was breathless with laughter. “S-Stop!”

“Never!” Bakura exclaimed, though he stopped a second later, Ryou’s face had gone a worrying shade of red. He remained lingering over him until Ryou’s loud laughter had subsided into the occasional hysterical giggle and his face had paled somewhat. His chest heaved with exertion and he raised a hand to wipe away his tears of laughter.

Bakura was frozen above Ryou, watching the small figure with fascinated eyes. How could someone so small hold so much happiness? Ryou truly matched up to his title of Hikari, just as Bakura lived up to his, Yami. Ryou was truly light, not just in appearance, he was everything Bakura was not.

“Bakura?” The timid voice came from beneath him, then a shaky hand raised to stroke his cheek. Bakura shut his eyes and leaned into the touch, breathing calmly and feeling Ryou’s fingers shoot electricity through his skin.

A loud scream from the TV broke the moment, both boys jolting in alarm, Ryou’s hand rapidly retreating and Bakura sitting up, sliding away from him across the sofa.

“We’re missing the film.” He announced coldly, trying to ignore the questioning way Ryou’s eyes looked at him.

“We’ve seen it before.” Ryou replied, voice almost a whisper as he moved across the sofa to sit beside Bakura. Swallowing against his nerves he curled into his side, smiling shyly when the Thief neither spoke nor pushed him away but wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer.

“Kura...” Ryou began, but was stopped abruptly as a cookie was shoved into his mouth by the Thief.

“Shush.” He whispered, smiling as Ryou protests were muffled by the triple chocolate cookie.

* * *

 

Bakura awoke the next morning with a crick in his neck, a dry mouth and a strange weight on his lap. The first he attributed to falling asleep on the sofa, the second to the beers he had consumed the night before. The third remained a mystery until his eyes adjusted to the daylight which sliced into the room through the blinds. Ryou lay curled up on the sofa, not unlike a cat in front of a warm fire, with his legs tucked into his chest. He continued to sleep as Bakura watched him with curiosity, noting the fact that at some point during the night he had rested his head in Bakura’s lap, nose pressed into his stomach. One of his small hands clutched Bakura’s shirt tightly and the other was draped around his waist. Ryou was warm and his soft breathing tickled Bakura’s chest, he looked utterly peaceful. His eyes, rimmed with soft brown lashes, flickered occasionally, as if he were dreaming.

Bakura couldn’t remember whether it was considered creepy or romantic to watch someone sleeping, but decided he didn’t care either way. Something about the rhythmic sound of his breathing and the warm, reassuring weight of him made Bakura’s eyelids begin to droop, and before he knew it he had fallen asleep again.

When he re-awoke about two hours later, he immediately sensed the silence of the room, and was slightly disappointed to notice Ryou’s absence from his lap. He shrugged sleepily and stood to stretch, thinking it would have been awkward if they had both woken in that position. He smirked to himself as he clicked his spine, thinking it would have been the perfect opportunity for a bit more teasing about Ryou’s seemingly increasing femininity. A sudden waft of meaty smell caught Bakura’s attention and he decided to have a peek at what Ryou had no doubt cooked them for breakfast. He paused before leaving the room to scan his reflection in the mirror that hung above the fireplace, running his fingers through his hair and wondering if he should ask Ryou to brush it for him again later. It took him a minute to realise what he was doing, he was grooming, like a woman, like Ryou. He shivered uncomfortably at the thought and wondered when he had become so vain, though he noted with a smirk that he did look pretty damn good. He grinned at himself in the mirror cockily, canines glinting in the dim light before turning to leave the room, not noticing the slight bounce in his stride.

“Morning Bakura.” Ryou smiled as he entered the kitchen, laying a plate of egg, sausage, bacon and hash browns onto the table before retrieving his own breakfast, two slices of toast.

“Mm.” Bakura responded, inclining his head in response of the greeting and slouching into his chair, reaching forwards for his coffee, which in his sleepy state he failed to realise he hadn’t made. His hand met nothing for a second and he looked up in confusion to meet a smirking Ryou whose hands held two mugs, one of which he pressed into Bakura’s eager hands.

“Good to see you’ve woken up properly.” Ryou remarked blankly, spreading butter onto his toast thinly before taking a bite.

“Well I might be more awake if you hadn’t decided to use me as a pillow.” Bakura retorted, almost choking on his coffee as Ryou’s face immediately turned bright red and he looked away. Bakura chuckled darkly and Ryou shot him a rather weedy glare.

“Well I’m sorry, as I recall you were the one who wouldn’t stop cuddling me in your sleep.”

This time Bakura did choke on his coffee, spraying dark liquid across the table. “I do not cuddle.” He growled, trying to distract Ryou by rooting through his pockets in search for cigarettes.

“Here.” Ryou pushed the blue packet and the lighter across the table to him, before standing to retrieve the ashtray from the window sill beside the back door.

Bakura raised his eyebrow disbelievingly but took them from Ryou, lighting one with a suspicious look in his eyes. “What happened to no smoking inside?”

“That still applies. But I wanted to talk to you, and it’s easier if you’re in the same room.”

Bakura nodded vaguely and began tearing into his bacon, making noises of appreciation in his throat at the smoky flavour. He paused a moment later as Ryou continued to eat his toast calmly.

“Is that all you’re having?” He questioned, wondering why Ryou had bothered cooking breakfast for just him.

“Yeah.” Ryou said, almost defensively. “Why?”

Bakura’s eyes ran up and down Ryou’s small figure. “No wonder you’re so skinny.”

“I am not skinny!” Ryou objected, hugging himself protectively, seemingly unaware that it just made his ribs visible through his thin t-shirt.

“I can see your ribs.” Bakura pointed out, blowing smoke directly into Ryou’s face, only half by mistake.

Ryou’s coughing fit and Bakura’s following alarm and enthusiastic pats on the back dispersed the conversation before violence could become involved, to both boys relief. They each returned to their respective breakfasts, crunching and slurping the only sounds heard, at least until Bakura’s phone rang. He dragged it out of his pocket with an unimpressed face that turned into an angry glare as he saw the caller ID, Mariku. He immediately pressed the reject call button, slamming his phone onto the table angrily, causing Ryou’s coffee to slop out of his mug. Bakura grabbed a sausage, tearing chunks off it angrily and no doubt spraying Ryou and the table.

“Kura?” Ryou asked hesitantly, aware of the Thief’s sudden mood change. “Who was it?”

“Mariku.” Bakura spat, literally, a chunk of sausage flew across the table to land on Ryou’s toast, which he pushed aside with a grimace, suddenly not hungry anymore.

“What’s going on?” Ryou demanded a moment later, eyes shining with determination, he wanted answers, now.

“Nothing.” Bakura said, avoiding Ryou’s eyes despite how obvious the lie had been.

“You told me not to let him in the house and now he rings you and you go psycho.” Ryou pointed out, arms gesticulating dramatically and threatening to knock over the remainder of his coffee.

“Don’t. Call me a psycho.” Bakura growled, suddenly right in front of Ryou’s face, fist gripping the material of his t-shirt. “Okay?”

Ryou nodded frantically, heart pounding, and not for good reasons. He was scared, it had been months since Bakura had done anything like this. The last thing was when he kicked down his door, and even then he hadn’t actually done anything physical. “Sorry.”

Bakura grunted and released him, none too gently as his back collided with the back of his chair painfully and he had to grit his teeth to prevent tears of pain forming. He had plenty of practice holding back tears of pain, but tears of betrayal were harder to hold back and he soon found he couldn’t restrain them anymore.

Bakura had returned to his cigarette the moment he released Ryou, appetite suddenly gone, he wasn’t aware Ryou was crying until he stood to leave the room, small sob leaving as he passed Bakura’s chair.

Bakura followed his immediate reaction and grabbed his wrist, anger no doubt making his grip tighter than he expected as Ryou whimpered and tried to pull free with pained eyes.

“Where are you going?” Bakura demanded.

“I... I was just going to-“ Ryou began, not sure where he was going.

“Going to what, Yadonushi?” Bakura snarled.

Ryou opened his mouth to answer but nothing came out, tears were flowing down his face thickly now and he was ashamed. He wanted nothing more than to leave the room, to go to the sanctuary of his bedroom and stay there til he wasn’t such a weak excuse for a Hikari. He wanted to go somewhere he couldn’t see the anger in Bakura’s eyes and the demands in his voice, he wanted to go back to yesterday when Bakura had been playful and funny. A shamefully loud choked sob left his throat and he hung his head, figuring if Bakura couldn’t see his tears then that was better than nothing. Bakura had always hated him crying.

“What are you crying for?” Bakura demanded, shaking his wrist angrily. “Eh? What have you got to cry about?”

Ryou didn’t reply, he didn’t even try to. He couldn’t raise his head, he couldn’t bear to see the disgust he knew was in Bakura’s eyes, disgust he hadn’t seen in so long.

“Maybe Mariku was right...” Bakura whispered, feeling Ryou’s soft wrist under his hand with new appreciation, digging in his nails and pulling Ryou closer to him, ignoring his hitching breath. He grabbed his chin and forcefully pulled his face up, making him look at him. Ryou’s face was a state, his eyes were wide and terrified and he was biting his bottom lip so hard he could taste blood. Tears rolled down his face and dripped down his chin, leaving sticky trails in their wake, Bakura curled his lip in distaste. “Disgusting.”

The hand left his chin and Ryou immediately ducked his head again, trying not to cry out as Bakura’s nails dug into his wrist harder, breaking the skin.

Bakura made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and pushed Ryou away from him, smirking as the surprised boy stumbled and hit his side off the counter, giving a dull groan.

“Get out of my sight.” Bakura spat darkly, eyes hardening as Ryou didn’t move. “Get out!”

At Bakura’s loud shout and the sound of something shattering, no doubt a plate or mug thrown in his sudden rage, Ryou turned tail and fled, allowing his sobs to come freely now.

Bakura turned back to the table with his mouth set in a scowl, grabbing another cigarette and lighting it aggressively, glad for the nearly full pack as he was in a chain smoking mood. It was only after his fourth consecutive cigarette and second mug of coffee that he realised what he had done.

“Fuck.” He breathed quietly, how was he going to fix this one?

* * *

 

Ryou was sat on the sofa, curled into a small ball, staring at a book with unseeing eyes, oblivious to the fact that it was upside-down. He still wore the t-shirt from yesterday, and Bakura could see the finger shaped bruises and nail shaped cuts round his wrist all too clearly. He felt bile rise in his throat and had to take a long, painful drag on his cigarette to get rid of the acrid taste.

“I didn’t know you could read upside down.” Bakura remarked, trying to sound light hearted and joking, though Ryou tensed the moment he spoke, fingers tightening on the book and crumpling the pages.

“I can’t.” Ryou replied blankly.

“Oh.” Bakura responded. Suddenly lost for words. He let out a groan of annoyance which made Ryou wince and flopped into an armchair, lighting another cigarette from the rapidly emptying box.

Bakura swallowed nervously, red eyes watching his cigarette burn, grey smoke drifting to fill the room with an unpleasant smell that was the reason Ryou’s nose always wrinkled. He took a drag and almost choked, but forced himself to breathe normally, so the smoke left his lungs, which felt red raw and pained. He grimaced as he ran his tongue over his teeth, tasting smoke. He stubbed out the cigarette on the ashtray Ryou had left by the sofa, not noticing the boy’s surprised look. It had been nearly a full cigarette, and Ryou had never seen Bakura waste a single drag before.

By the time Bakura looked up at Ryou, the boy had averted his eyes once more and was staring at his book, fingers twitching occasionally.

Bakura sighed and rubbed his eyes with a nicotine-stained hand. This was going to be painful, not physically, but... painful, none the less.

“Ryou.” Bakura started, immediately stopping again as the boy in question shrank further back into the sofa. “I’m. Fuck.”

Bakura internally slapped himself for behaving like an embarrassed schoolgirl. He just had to say it, get it out there, clear the air.

He stood up, moving so he stood in front of Ryou, shadow covering his cowering form. “I’m sorry okay?”

The words came out harsher than he meant them to and the Hikari winced at each one, a hand moving to grip his injured wrist carefully. Bakura stood there a minute longer, waiting naively for the chill in the air to dissipate and for Ryou to accept his apology and smile. His patience had never been one of his strong points and he soon gave up. Stalking out of the room with a growl, “fuck this, I’m going out.”

* * *

 

That evening was a stilted one. They put a film on as usual, this time about an employee bonding weekend gone wrong. It looked okay, from the blank stare Bakura gave it, but he couldn’t enjoy it. Not with Ryou curled up onto his side of the sofa, casting the Thief furtive and nervous glances every now and again, flinching when he so much as yawned. The silence seemed even more awkward with the distance between them, the screams of the film doing nothing to reduce the tension. Bakura, a man known for having little to no patience eventually decided to break it.

“I’m getting a drink, you want one?” His fingers rubbed against his jeans nervously as he waited for Ryou’s reply. The small boy didn’t seem to have heard the question, let alone acknowledged him, so Bakura was surprised when he finally answered.

“I’ll have a beer.”

His voice was dull and empty, and Bakura felt a stabbing pain in his chest at the lack of his usual, upbeat tone. Bakura’s eyes widened a moment later as he realised what Ryou had said.

“Are you sure?” Bakura asked, receiving only a cold, empty stare as reply. “Okay then.”

Bakura was glad of the opportunity to leave the room to get the drinks, deciding to take through a six pack. He figured his evening would pass far less uncomfortably if he was slightly drunk, and it would remove the need for later trips, something his lazy half was very pleased about.

Bakura grabbed a bottle opener and perched on a kitchen stool, opening one of the beers and taking a deep drink. Cool, slightly frothy liquid soothed his throat, burnt from all the cigarettes he’d foolishly smoked earlier. He stared at the bottle with confused eyes, why did Ryou want a beer? He’d made his views on drinking very clear, he hated it. It made nice people cruel, and cruel people crueller. It made people do stupid things, things they’d regret the next day.

Bakura also knew why Ryou thought that. His father had turned to drink when his mother and sister died, drowning his grief in whisky and ignoring Ryou’s crying. Of course, Bakura’s drunken actions were also to blame for Ryou’s hatred of anything even mildly alcoholic. Bakura had lost count of the beatings caused almost purely because of his drunkenness, and he knew full well alcohol made him act much more recklessly than he usually would.

So Ryou asking for alcohol, from Bakura of all people, was an absolute shock.

Bakura shook his head and grabbed the beers, leaving the cold kitchen empty and walking back into the front room, which felt so much colder despite the radiator blasting warmth into the room.

“Here.” Bakura handed Ryou a freshly opened beer, having to force his mouth to shut as Ryou proceeded to drink it in three long gulps, placing the empty bottle onto the table and holding his hand out to Bakura expectantly. “You were thirsty, huh?”

Bakura chuckled nervously, but immediately stopped as Ryou’s serious eyes met his, uncapping him a beer and handing it over.

His eyes practically bulged out of his head as Ryou did the same again, draining the amber liquid in a matter of seconds, wiping his lips with his sleeve.

Bakura blinked in shock and drank a mouthful of his own beer, staring at Ryou with unconcealed surprise which only grew as a pale hand extended towards him again.

“Don’t you think you should slow down?” Bakura advised nervously, trying to ignore how hypocritical he was being. Ryou’s brown eyes met his in a glare that had Bakura handing him the remaining beers and the bottle opener. “You can just look after them.”

Somehow, the alcohol Bakura had thought might make his evening easier had only managed to make it far more awkward than he could ever have anticipated. Sure, the more Ryou drank the less he flinched when Bakura moved, but he was starting to sway slightly.

Bakura had only consumed three beers, having retrieved more from the kitchen when Ryou requested it, having finished the six in his pack in less than half an hour.

Said Hikari was currently lifting each empty bottle on the table, seemingly searching for one that still contained some liquid. When his search was fruitless, he once again extended a hand to Bakura, expecting his demands to be met again.

“I think you’ve had enough.” Bakura decided it was best to stop Ryou now, seeing as he had drank at least nine beers, enough alcohol to knock out someone twice his size.

Ryou just glared at him and stood from the sofa, one hand clamping onto his head, which was presumably throbbing.

“Where are you going?” Bakura asked warily, moving to block Ryou’s path.

“To get another drink.” He replied coldly, scowling at Bakura even as he swayed slightly.

Bakura made a scoffing noise and placed a hand on Ryou’s shoulder, intending to guide him back to the sofa, at least until Ryou angrily shoved him off.

“Don’t touch me.” He spat angrily, clear hate radiating from every inch of him.

“Ryou, you’re drunk.” The Thief scolded, grabbing Ryou’s arm in a firm grip.

“Get off me!” Ryou suddenly screeched, trying to get away from Bakura in a clearly alcohol fuelled panic and tripping into the sofa, falling onto it. “Get away!”

Ryou was thrashing around so violently, Bakura was worried he’d either hurt himself or break something. “Stop it Ry.”

Ryou made no signs of calming down, working himself into a hysterical mess, yelling nonsense strings of words and kicking out at Bakura’s ankles. The Thief growled in his throat, even he was never this annoying when he was drunk. As one of Ryou’s hands grabbed an empty bottle and threw it across the room, crashing into the wall and showering glass over the floor, Bakura decided to take action. He grabbed the smaller boy’s wrists tightly, pushing them into the cushion of the sofa behind him and, essentially, straddling him, using his own weight to stop his furious thrashing.

“Ryou! Calm the fuck down!” Bakura yelled as Ryou fought fiercely to free himself, kicking and clawing at Bakura with never before displayed aggression.

“Get off me!” Ryou shouted, voice hysterical with fear and anger, blindly scratching at the air, pleased when he felt skin tear under his fingers and heard the Thief growl in pain before releasing him.

Bakura lifted a hand to touch his cheek, surprised when his fingers came away streaked in blood which he could feel slowly trickle down his jaw.

“Bakura?” The voice that came from under him was softer than it had been in a while, and was almost apologetic.

“What?” Bakura spat, licking the blood off his fingers irritably, starting in surprise as an arm snaked around his waist and Ryou lent his head on his shoulder.

A contented hum left the small boy, now seemingly placated, and Bakura felt soft hair brushing against his cheek.

“Ryou? What are you doing?” Bakura could feel his face flushing red as Ryou’s nose nuzzled along his neck.

“You’re warm.” The white haired Hikari answered, smiling against Bakura’s skin as he breathed in his scent, blood and rust. Bakura’s throat hitched as he felt Ryou’s breath wash over his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

Bakura wanted to pull away from Ryou, tell him to stop, tell him he was drunk. But somehow he couldn’t, Ryou’s small body was warm, his breath on his neck reassuring and gentle. Bakura swallowed hard against a wave of alarm as one of Ryou’s slim hands came to rest on his jaw, cupping his cheek almost affectionately.

“Ry?” Bakura practically whispered, not wanting to break the strange mood that had settled over them like a fog.

“Mm?” Ryou queried, eyes softly closed as he ran his nose over Bakura’s cheek, surprised at how soft it was.

“You’re drunk.”

Ryou didn’t respond and Bakura became increasingly irritated at himself for getting into this position, and more annoyed that he somehow couldn’t bring himself to move.

Ryou somehow managed to reduce the distance between them more, his nose gently nudging Bakura’s and their breath mingling. Bakura couldn’t help but be reminded of the times he had done this before, but he had always been joking. Playing with Ryou like a cat with a ball of string, he’d never actually meant it. Surely not.

But as his hands rose to play with Ryou’s soft hair, he began to wonder whether he had just been lying to himself all this time. After all this time, and all they had been through, it would be illogical for him to harbour no good feelings towards his Hikari. Bakura’s eyes met Ryou’s and hovered there for a moment, the nervousness and curiosity in his brown orbs making Bakura’s head feel light. He’d seen those eyes show all sorts of emotions, pain, fear, anger, hurt. But he’d never seen them look so open before, so unguarded, as if Ryou had knocked down the final wall between them.

So when Ryou timidly moved forwards to brush their lips together, Bakura didn’t stop him.

When Ryou pulled back again, crimson blush staining his pale cheeks, averting his eyes as if all his courage had suddenly gone, Bakura couldn’t stop the smile that crept onto his face. One that was mirrored by Ryou a moment later, as the Thief rested his forehead against the pale one before him. Ryou seemed to be over his brief nervousness, as he let out a giggle that made Bakura lose any ounce of restraint he had left. Leaning forwards to claim Ryou’s lips more forcefully, earning a soft, surprised moan.

It was tender and warm, and the scent of Ryou’s vanilla shampoo surrounded Bakura as they gently kissed, causing the Thief to wonder why he hadn't done this a long time ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at- motorcycle-chan.tumblr.com  
> Or DMMd side blog- minky-way.tumblr.com


	15. Chapter 15

“I think I’m gunna be sick.” This statement, followed by a series of hurried rustling noises, and a sharp elbow in his rib, was Bakura’s start to the day. He jerked awake just in time to see Ryou untangling himself from the blanket the Thief had covered him with the previous evening. Ryou finally finished his task, clamping one hand over his mouth and dashing from the room, feet stomping in the direction of the kitchen. Bakura rubbed his eyes wearily and stood from the sofa, quickly stretching before deciding to follow Ryou.

His Hikari was leaning over the kitchen sink, breathing raggedly and clutching his stomach with one hand as his stomach heaved unpleasantly and bile crept into his throat. Strands of long white hair trailed into the sink, and as his stomach finally decided to empty his spine shuddered. Bakura knew what was coming, he’d been in the same situation too many times to mention, he was tempted to leave his Hikari to deal with it by himself. But the idea of that perfect white hair, Ryou’s pride and joy, getting covered in foul smelling stomach juices, made him step forwards. A second after Bakura had gathered Ryou’s hair into his hand, making sure none of it was loose, the small boy vomited. His fragile frame shook as he gagged again and again, the watery, unpleasantly coloured sick running down the plughole. Ryou’s eyes watered with the force of the stomach contractions, continuing to spit and cough as his now empty stomach continued to churn. Finally, all the gunky green bile swirled down the plughole too, Bakura averting his eyes as nausea overcame him.

Ryou groaned self-pityingly and turned on the tap with a shaking hand, cleaning the sink of the fowl smelling contents of his stomach. There was a disgusting mixture of saliva and bile hanging from his chin in a thick, gungy trail which he made no attempt to wipe away, hands clutching at the sink’s rim as he swayed dizzily.

The Thief grimaced and reached with his free hand for some kitchen roll, scrunching it into a ball and going to wipe Ryou’s face with it, feeling a pang of pain when he flinched away. Bakura ignored him and tried again, this time being allowed to clear the gooey mess away from Ryou’s mouth, dumping the dirty kitchen roll into the sink unceremoniously.

“Ugh. This is horrible.” Ryou groaned, moving himself out of Bakura’s grip only to stumble and cling onto a counter, head spinning in a way that made him feel like he was going to pass out.

“It’s your own fault.” Bakura answered unsympathetically, taking Ryou’s arm and guiding him slowly into the front room, sitting him down on the sofa where he immediately curled into a ball. The sight of the smaller white haired boy looking so miserable sent a pang of pity through Bakura, who could definitely empathise with his current condition. He sighed, pulling the blanket that decorated the sofa down to cover the small boy, who was now clutching his head and moaning quietly. “Try and get some sleep okay?”

Ryou managed a small nod, groaning as it made his head throb, before shutting his eyes and willing the nausea and pounding behind his eyes to go away.

* * *

 

Ryou eyed Bakura suspiciously as he handed him a glass of water and some white pills, telling him they’d help with his headache.

“They’re paracetamol.” Bakura explained a second later as Ryou made no move to swallow them and instead stared at him. “What?”

Ryou lowered the glass to rest in his lap, watching the Thief as he sat beside him on the sofa, cross legged so he was facing him.

“Why are you being so... nice?” Ryou queried, wondering if that was the first time anybody had ever called the Thief nice. It seemed like such an ill-fitting word, but it was the only way Ryou could describe his actions today.

Bakura raised an eyebrow incredulously. “Nice?”

Ryou sighed, “You know what I mean. Holding my hair back, making me food. Nice.”

“You threw that back up.” Bakura retorted, remembering with a grimace the barely digested sandwich that now graced his blanket, immediately thrown into the bin.

Ryou gritted his teeth, he could feel his headache worsening and knew it wasn’t another after effect of the alcohol. The tablets clenched in his hand suddenly looked very tempting and he quickly swallowed them, cold water hitting his empty stomach nastily.

“Did something, happen, last night?” Ryou asked cautiously, fingers tight on the cold glass. His memory was hazy, he just about remembered the film as splashes of blood and, oddly, people playing paintball. He was too absorbed in trying to remember the previous evening to notice the way Bakura tensed at his words, disappointment flashing across his face, soon replaced by what he hoped was a blank mask.

“Like what?” He prayed to whichever God’s were listening that his voice didn’t shake, trying to remain calm even though his mind was spinning.

Ryou’s eyes narrowed, trying to see if Bakura’s nonchalance was genuine. “I don’t know, something weird.”

Well, Bakura certainly didn’t think what had happened was weird, though he was aware Ryou might. A smirk grew on Bakura’s face as Ryou took another drink of water, praising his brain for coming up with something at such a perfect moment.

“Oh that.” He responded absently, pretending to examine his nails, watching Ryou through his fingers for his reaction. “We fucked.”

Ryou’s reaction was instantaneous, the water in his mouth sprayed all over his front as he coughed violently, almost choking with sheer shock. He turned to Bakura with a face reminiscent of a strawberry, jaw hanging open in disbelief as he stared at the Thief, ignoring the water dripping down his chin.

“We what?!” He all but yelled, vivid mental images not helping the furious blush on his face.

Bakura had to fight to keep a grin from his face as he responded casually, “we fucked.” His mouth disobeyed him and twitched up at the side, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by Ryou, who bit his lip thoughtfully.

“You’re lying.” He said, glaring at Bakura with angry eyes. “If we had, my back would hurt, and it doesn’t.”

Bakura raised an eyebrow, “you sure know a lot about it Hikari, and here I thought you were sweet and innocent.”

“Admit you’re lying.” Ryou demanded, jabbing a finger into Bakura’s ribs aggressively.

“You know, it’s interesting that you’d automatically assume I’d top.” The Thief noted with a playful grin. “Fantasy of yours?”

Ryou’s imagination was running away with him again and he felt his skin heat up more as expanses of pale skin flashed behind his eyes.

“You’re disgusting.” Ryou muttered, unable to meet the crimson eyes that stared at him gleefully, hoping the mind link was well secured.

“I know.” Bakura shrugged, he’d been called far worse. “But so’s that imagination of yours.”

Ryou paled and shot Bakura a look, immediately turning red again at the predatorial look in his crimson eyes.

“My, my Hikari. You certainly are creative.” Bakura crooned, opening his mind link to shoot some of Ryou’s more... imaginative thoughts back at him.

Ryou became more and more flustered as each image ran through his mind, some were warped or distorted, affected by changes Bakura had made to them. Ryou was considering climbing under his blanket and not coming out when a drastically changed image made him squeak in shock. Ryou immediately sent it back, Bakura raising an eyebrow as he closed his eyes to see the image more clearly.

“You changed that.” Ryou insisted, cheeks still red and warm. “There were never ropes.”

Bakura’s face twitched in irritation, okay, so he’d made a few mental changes, but it was Ryou who had thought of things like that in the first place.

“They’re still your weird fantasies.” Red and brown eyes locked in a silent fight of mentally exchanged images. “And they’re chains actually.”

Ryou’s eyes blinked rapidly and a shocked sound came out of his throat. “Chains? I think you’re the one with the weird fantasies.”

Bakura shrugged, his Hikari had a point. “It’s totally understandable that you think of me like that, but if you could keep it to yourself. It’s quite difficult to concentrate when one of those images filters through.”

Ryou ground his teeth and tried to stay calm, half wanting to dig a hole and never get out, and half wanting to shout at Bakura for being so big-headed.

“You never answered my question.” Ryou decided, wisely, to change the subject. “I know we didn’t fuck. But you’ve been acting weird all day and I know something happened.”

“Nothing happened Hikari.” Bakura lied, voice going a shade colder. He growled as he felt Ryou tentatively poke at the mind link, trying to find out sneakily.

“It can’t have been that bad, just tell me!” Ryou pouted, looking for every inch like a puppy with his downcast expression and wide brown eyes.

Bakura groaned quietly and rubbed his forehead. “Fine.”

With that word he opened the mind link, pushing the right memory to the front, where Ryou was sure to see it. He felt nervous as he watched Ryou’s expression, eyes widening in either shock or realisation as he gaped wordlessly.

“That. What? You!” Ryou babbled like a madman, clearly utterly surprised.

“Me? Don’t pin this on me, you started it.” Bakura snapped, irritated that Ryou seemed significantly less happy about the events of last night than he did. The least Bakura could do was blame Ryou.

“I was drunk!” Ryou retorted, feeling his emotions twist into a tangled ball in his chest.

“I told you to stop!” Bakura yelled back, rewinding the memory to the right part and shoving it across the mind link.

“Hardly.” Ryou scoffed, bottom lip stuck out in an irritated pout as he muttered to himself darkly.

“Oh my Ra, calm down. It’s not like it was your first or anything.” Bakura sighed, the chuckle that developed in his throat dying as Ryou didn’t say anything. “Right?”

Ryou still didn’t respond and curled up in his blanket, clutching the now half empty glass of water in white hands. Bakura could see the memory of the kiss playing in a loop behind Ryou’s unfocused eyes but his resulting emotions from it had been blocked, and despite Bakura’s most skilful attempts to break through, he had no success.

Bakura assumed Ryou’s silence meant that yes, that actually had been his first kiss. The Thief was actually surprised, Ryou had always been popular with the girls at school, his quiet, gentle nature had ensured he had at least one confession of love every month. Ryou had of course, gently declined them, coming up with an excuse that left the girls with a sad smile but never with tears. Ryou being gay would of course complicate things, homosexuality still wasn’t accepted everywhere and Ryou wasn’t openly gay. But there had been people showing interest, Bakura often got bored at home so would resort to watching Ryou’s day by invading the mind link. One boy in particular had gotten far too close to Ryou, putting an arm around him in corridors, sharing his lunch with him when Bakura wouldn’t let him eat, and walking him home every day despite living in the opposite direction. The Thief hadn’t been too happy with that and had made sure to punish Ryou.

Bakura’s mouth turned down as he glanced over to Ryou, short sleeved t-shirt showing his pale arms. Otherwise perfect skin marred by a series of raised white scars, caused by Bakura’s knife. If he thought about it, his plan had worked, the friend had seen the cuts and insisted on helping Ryou, pushing and prodding in an attempt to help until Ryou became sick of it and distanced himself from him.

“He was just overly friendly. He has a girlfriend now.” Ryou’s voice spoke, removing Bakura from his thoughts. Ryou had clearly been listening in, his mouth set in a sad smile as he watched the all-too familiar memories flash through the mind link between them.

“I just assumed.” Bakura muttered, annoyed he had been wrong.

“It’s okay.” Ryou reassured, though neither boy felt any better. It wasn't okay, and they both knew it.

* * *

 

It seemed to Bakura that he hadn't slept in his bedroom for weeks as he once again curled up on the sofa to go to sleep, not wanting to wake Ryou as he walked up the creaky stairs.

He finished his before bed cigarette, threw a blanket over himself and shoved a cushion under his head, it was stupidly early in the morning and he knew he wouldn't wake up til midday. He was exhausted, his head was filled with an ever swirling mess of emotions and memories. Despite how much he tried to push it down, to hide it behind other recollections, the memory of the kiss still lingered in the front of his mind all day, repeating over and over. Ryou’s reaction and resulting attempts at comfort made him feel uneasy, and the Thief felt for the first time in his life like he had stolen something he shouldn't have.

His mind slowly emptied as he felt the tendrils of sleep embrace him, breathing growing deeper and more relaxed as he snuggled further into the blanket. The sound of the door being pushed open and socked feet padding towards him startled him into consciousness again, but he kept his eyes shut. When he last checked the clock it had been just after 3AM, a time when Ryou, an unnaturally early riser in Bakura’s opinion, would normally be fast asleep. The Thief twisted the mind link into something resembling sleep and focused on keeping his breathing even as he felt Ryou kneel down beside the sofa. He had to prevent a smile forming on his face as he felt the blanket being tugged down over his bare feet and tucked in under them, stopping them from getting cold.

It was silent for a moment, then a soft sigh broke through and Bakura tensed as he felt a hand stroke his hair gently, in an attempt not to wake him up. The gentle petting continued for a while and Bakura felt himself once more falling asleep, soothed by the comforting motions of his Hikari’s hand.

Just before he fell asleep fully, he felt soft hair that was not his own tickle his cheek and a pair of lips gently brushed against his forehead.

“I’m glad it was you.” The soft voice whispered, giving his hair a final stroke before quietly standing and leaving the room. Bakura smiled and fell into a sleep full of vanilla scented dreams.

* * *

 

Ryou was sat on the sofa, doing what the uncomfortable Thief could only describe as brooding. It was clear from his curled brows and confused eyes that he was thinking about something hard, probably overthinking and blowing whatever it was way out of proportion. His mind link had been firmly secured, so not even a single thought or emotion could be read, just a blank darkness and a low hum, almost like television static.

They hadn’t discussed ‘the incident’ further, neither boy had wanted to bring it up so they had just skirted around it, and around each other. In fact, Ryou had taken this to such lengths that earlier on he had diverted his route to avoid having to brush against Bakura, instead carrying a dirty plate upstairs and into his bedroom.

* * *

 

“Bakura?” The voice spoke timidly behind him, and with a low curse, he turned to see Ryou’s suspicious face. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Bakura replied instantly, “It’s not important.”

Ryou raised an eyebrow in disbelief, “You know, for a Thief you’re a terrible liar.”

Bakura’s lip twitched in annoyance, he had always commended himself on his ability to lie to people’s faces without so much as a shred of guilt. But Ryou, well, he was just impossible to lie to.

“And for a Hikari, you’re awfully cocky.” Bakura replied, fixing Ryou with what he hoped was a warning look, though probably came across as more irritated, which in all honesty, he was.

Ryou rolled his eyes and sighed tiredly, “well I leant from the best.” His sarcastic tone was missed by Bakura, who grinned and reached forwards to ruffle his hair.

“Damn right you did.”  He nodded smugly, sliding whatever had been in his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, though not as sneakily as he’d thought.

“What was that?” Ryou asked, trying to peer over Bakura’s shoulder with little success, a couple inches of skin obscuring his view.

“Nothing.” Bakura reiterated, finally turning to face Ryou with a face that said arguing would not be appreciated.

Ryou tutted in irritation, wishing the mind link was open so he could find out that way, but it was sealed firmly on both sides. “Fine, don’t tell me, but I know you’re hiding something.”

Bakura merely raised an eyebrow in challenge, watching with an amused laugh as Ryou pouted before spinning on his heel with an effeminate huff and walking away.

* * *

 

“Oi, Ryou, come here.” Bakura yelled up the stairs, to where Ryou lay on his bed reading a copy of national geographic magazine.

“Why?” The voice shouted back a moment later, causing a vein to pulse in Bakura’s forehead.

“Because I said so!” Bakura insisted, waiting with expectant ears for the sounds of footsteps on the stairs. A moment later, he was greeted with an unimpressed looking Ryou.

“What?” He asked shortly, wanting to get back to the article on African wildlife he had been reading.

Bakura sighed from where he stood in front of the sofa, the tickets from Mariku had arrived in the mail that morning, with a not so subtle note attached, meaning he’d had to scramble to hide them from his eagle-eyes Hikari.

“You know I told you about the money I made, before...” Bakura paused, he still didn’t like talking about the hospital incident. “Before I left.”

“Mm.” Ryou nodded slowly, mouth pursing in disapproval, “what about it?”

“Well, I didn’t have anything I wanted to spend it on. So, I thought, as a sort of congratulations gift, for your exam results.” Bakura was sure he was waffling, his cheeks were annoyingly hot and he was certain he was blushing like a girl. “I thought I’d surprise you.”

Ryou looked straight up worried now, “surprise me with what, exactly?”

“Tickets.” Bakura received a look that blatantly asked for clarification, “plane tickets, to England.”

Through the mind link, Bakura saw a sudden flash of memories, unintentionally released by Ryou at the prospective of returning home. Grey rain pelting against a car window, a young girl with white hair wearing a flower crown, tree lined streets bustling with shoppers, an ice-cream van blasting discordant music, chips wrapped in yesterday’s newspaper. The pictures appeared in Bakura’s head, and were gone again in a second, leaving a strange feeling of second hand nostalgia, maybe even homesickness.

“I thought maybe, we could go?” Bakura asked, trying to act confident, though he knew a large amount of money rested on his ability to persuade Ryou.

“To England?” Ryou asked flatly, voice sceptical.

“I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Bakura pressed, the boy’s blank expression more than a little disconcerting. “I just thought, it’s been a while since you saw your father, and...”

Ryou’s face remained suspicious and closed and Bakura felt his words failing him, giving an exasperated sigh and shaking his head. “You know what? Forget it, it was a fucking stupid idea.”

The silence stretched on painfully, Bakura beginning to shuffle from foot to foot, wishing he had a dagger to twirl to distract him. He felt his patience, which was standing up unusually well lately, begin to fray. Glancing up at Ryou, whose mouth was twisted into a confused pout as he regarded the Thief with calculating eyes.

“Well fucking say something!” Bakura spat, patience officially gone, growling low in his throat.

“This isn’t a joke?” Ryou finally asked, eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms across his chest.

“Fuck’s sake Ry,” Bakura scowled, wondering if maybe Ryou had a screw loose. Although, anyone who had lived with Bakura for as many years as Ryou was liable to become a bit paranoid, it was understandable. “Of course it’s not a fucking joke.”

Ryou unfolded his arms slowly, shooting Bakura a look that seemed marginally more trusting than it had just been. “Prove it.” He demanded stubbornly, seeming to not notice that Bakura was becoming increasingly annoyed.

Bakura took what was supposed to be a calming breath, grinding his teeth and supressing the urge to swear vehemently. “Fine.”

He slid his hand into the pocket of the black hoodie he was wearing, rooting through loose change, a packet of cigarettes and a lighter until he found the small white envelope that held the proof Ryou so desperately needed. Grumbling under his breath he ripped open the envelope violently, shredding paper onto the carpet in his anger, finally managing to reach his goal without damaging anything necessary.

Bakura held up the tickets indignantly, which Ryou stared at in seeming disbelief, eyes flitting over the text rapidly, for a second at least. That was before the boy emitted a high pitched squeal of excitement and glomped the Thief with freakish strength, pushing him backwards so he fell on the sofa with the thrilled boy atop him.

“Oh my God Bakura! Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!” Ryou squeaked as he hugged the startled Thief, punctuating each joyful thank you with a peck to some part of his face, cheeks, forehead, nose. This unnecessary level of gratitude, in Bakura’s eyes at least, continued for a good five minutes, until Ryou must have thanked him at least fifty times and kissed every inch of his face.

Except his lips, anyway.

When Ryou moved away with a flushed face and wide, excited eyes, it took him a good minute to realise what he had done and he let out a shocked squeak, attempting to slide off the Thief’s legs. Bakura was having none of it and gripped Ryou’s hips tightly enough that he couldn’t leave but not tight enough to hurt, he’d learnt his lesson after the last time he hurt Ryou and didn’t intend on doing it again.

Bakura gave Ryou a gentle smile and brushed his hair out of his eyes so he could see the chestnut brown orbs, filled with embarrassment, mirrored in his pink cheeks. He gave a final wriggle to try and escape but Bakura held him firm, looping his arms around his waist.

“Bakuraa...” Ryou whined, looking everywhere but at the Thief as he squirmed uselessly.

“Ryou.” Bakura said firmly, tilting the boys chin up to force their eyes to meet. “Are you happy?”

The Thief’s honest gaze and earnest tone startled Ryou, who could only smile and nod shyly mutely in response, suddenly feeling timid as he relaxed slightly in Bakura’s warm hold.

Ryou’s smile was returned with one of equal warmth as Bakura felt his chest flood with relief, leaning up unthinkingly to kiss Ryou gently, hands resting on the small of his back. The smaller whitette made a noise of alarm in the back of his throat as Bakura pulled back to rub their noses together, giving both boys a sense of deja-vu.

“Good.” Bakura whispered, moving one hand to cup Ryou’s cheek and kissing him again, smiling against his mouth as he offered no resistance and parted his lips.

Ryou’s head was spinning, Bakura’s mouth was keen against his own and Ryou let an involuntary soft moan as their tongues rubbed together, sparks of hormones rushing to his head and making him feel dizzy. He slid further into Bakura’s touch, pressing their chests together and resting his slender fingers on his chest as the Thief’s came up to tangle in his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at- motorcycle-chan.tumblr.com  
> Or DMMd side blog- minky-way.tumblr.com


	16. Chapter 16

Bakura would later vehemently deny the vivid blush spread across his cheeks as Ryou wrapped his arms around him, beaming.

“You’re the best, Kura.” The small whitette voiced, smell of vanilla overwhelming Bakura’s nose as his hair tickled his face.

Bakura would also deny that when he tried to think of a witty reply, his mind blanked and he just stuttered illegibly, amazed Ryou had agreed so... enthusiastically.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” He eventually muttered awkwardly, Ryou’s ensuing giggle as he pulled back bringing a small smile to his face.

“When are we going?” Ryou asked, realising he’d accepted with little to no knowledge on the details of the trip.

“Um,” Bakura paused, trying to remember the date on the tickets, which was difficult to do with the warm weight of his Hikari settled on his lap. “Next Tuesday I think.”

Ryou’s mouth opened in a wide ‘O’ of alarm and he jumped from Bakura’s lap, grabbing a notebook and pen from the coffee table. “But it’s Thursday today! We need to start packing! There’s loads of stuff we’ll need, and it’s colder in England. I might have to buy a new coat, I think the seam’s split on mine.”

Bakura watched with amusement as Ryou prattled on to himself about everything he’d need to buy, neat handwriting filling a page of the notebook quickly as he jotted everything down.

Ryou had always made lists, a list of books he wanted to read, a list of things for the supermarket, a list of good things that had happened. That list made Bakura sad when he found it, in a small book lying on Ryou’s bedside table, probably not meant for his eyes, but seen by them anyway. It was pretty old, a couple of years at least, and each entry was date marked, like a bizarre diary of good things. He had of course, immediately flipped to the time before the hospitalization incident. The list for the months before was pathetically short and it pained Bakura to realize it was his fault. It was just little, insignificant things, Anzu saying his jacket was nice, Yami complimenting him on his high math test score, Yugi thanking him for help with a project.

One entry he’d written, made Bakura feel sick.

07th March- Told Bakura to stay out of my life.

It was written in scruffy black ink pen, smudged with the speed and anger it had probably been written with. He probably couldn't remember having written it now, if he did, Bakura liked to think he would regret it, or at least feel slightly bad.

The Thief had, of course, made it his priority to sneak a look at the notebook every so often, and was surprised to see that the list now featured a good event almost every day. Some days had multiple events, like the day he got his exam results, which had an entire half a page dedicated to it and was more like a diary entry.

19th July- Exam results! Passed all of them, top of the year. Bakura bought us celebratory pizza AND then revealed Mississippi mud pie and ice cream. Got two huge bowlfuls, felt sick. Watched a film- Good day! :)

* * *

 

Now however, Ryou’s list making was far more frantic, and Bakura was removed from his fond memory as his arm was tugged by the insistent Hikari.

“Bakura!” He whined, “We need to go shopping for stuff!”

The Thief groaned, he hated shopping more than anything, it meant interaction with people, and he wasn’t all that good with people.

“We’ve got ages, relax.” He insisted.

“We’ve got six days, including today, and that’s not ages at all!” Ryou reprimanded, hands on hips in his typical pose.

Bakura sighed, removing a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it absently, taking a calming drag. The day was barely half over and he was exhausted.

“I’ll get the suitcases out of the attic.” he offered half-heartedly, knowing if Ryou tried to he’d probably fall down the ladder trying to carry them and break his neck.

“Great! Thanks Kura.” Ryou beamed, “I’ll start gathering our clothes.”

Bakura called out to Ryou as he left the room, but the overexcited boy wasn’t listening, and practically sprinted up the stairs.

* * *

 

Bakura had to admit that he found it slightly disturbing that Ryou knew where all his clothes went, and had no qualms at all about handling them. Watching with mild amusement as Ryou folded up his boxers neatly and placed them in an orderly pile on his bed, muttering to himself about how many days they were going for and whether he should pack extra pairs.

“You know, this trip wasn’t just an excuse for you to go on a panty raid.” Bakura smirked, laughing to himself as Ryou paled and dropped the striped boxers he had been folding to the ground in realisation.

The pale Hikari gathered himself surprisingly fast, turning to glare at Bakura before gaining a wicked gleam to his eyes that made the Yami uncomfortable. “I wasn’t aware you wore panties.”

Bakura growled quietly, annoyed at how quick Ryou could come up with witty responses to his comments. “I don’t.”

“Of course not.” Ryou said sarcastically, too distracted picking up the fallen underwear to noticing Bakura advancing behind him until he felt breath on his ear and gave a squeak. Warm arms wrapped around his middle and pulled him flush against the Thief’s firm chest, lips grazing his ear.

“Would you like it if I did, hm?” Bakura teased, holding in his laughter as Ryou tensed and spluttered indignantly, trying to wiggle free without much success.

“No! You... pervert!” Ryou exclaimed, deeply disturbed by the mental images that were flashing through his head despite his best attempts to think of anything else.

Bakura chuckled quietly, turning the bright red boy round to face him, cupping his chin and forcing him to meet his eyes.

“Only when it comes to you.” Bakura grinned, not surprised when Ryou let out a choked noise of alarm and his eyes widened in horror. As Ryou opened his mouth to call Bakura a creep and fifty other insulting things, Bakura swooped down to kiss him, blasting all words out of his head. Resting his hands on the small of his back and pulling him closer, amused at how easy kisses were to steal. In fact, he thought they were probably one of his favourite things to steal. At least until Ryou broke away with an irritated blush and a sort of pleased embarrassment in his eyes.

“Kura! I’m trying to pack!” Ryou protested, albeit weakly, cursing the way his hands had settled on Bakura’s chest so easily.

“Do it later.” Bakura insisted impatiently, ignoring Ryou’s objections, which soon stilled when he kissed him deeper, running his tongue over his teeth and nipping his bottom lip.

* * *

 

“Holy fuck, Ry. How did you carry all this stuff?” Bakura exclaimed as Ryou staggered into the kitchen with at least fifteen shopping bags of different sizes hanging from his slim arms.

Ryou froze, hand still clutching the bag he had just lowered onto the kitchen table, looking sheepish.

“Um,” he started, swallowing hard. “Well, I bumped into Mariku and he offered to help.”

Bakura’s face hardened, “I told you not to go near him.”

“I know, I’m sorry. But I couldn’t carry it all, and I didn’t have any money for a taxi.”

“You could have rung me, or got a taxi then got the money when you got here.” Bakura replied logically, trying to remain calm even though he could hear his voice rising.

“Hah,” Ryou half laughed nervously, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. “I didn’t think of that.”

Bakura rolled his eyes, wondering how someone with so little common sense had passed all his exams, at A* level too.

“But, wait!” Ryou exclaimed, squatting down to rummage through a paper bag that looked like it belonged to an expensive store. “Look what I got you!”

The Thief had to admit, his interest was piqued and he felt his anger ebb away slowly as Ryou continued his search. Mariku obviously hadn’t done anything to harm Ryou, and it wasn’t his Hikari’s fault Bakura had decided to let him go shopping alone.

“You got me something?” Bakura asked, extinguishing his half smoked cigarette in the ashtray, feeling an almost childish glee at the prospect of an indirect present.

“Yeah,” Ryou replied, pouting as he began searching in yet another bag for the mystery item. “Well, like I said, it’ll be cold in England. So, I thought you’d need a new coat, because yours got... damaged.”

That was true, Bakura’s coat had a large rip in it, where the knife had gone through it and into his stomach all those months ago. It was also rather blood-stained, though it was difficult to see due to the coats dark colour, Bakura had to admit wearing it made him feel queasy. The coat just brought back too many unpleasant memories, though being stabbed was probably fairly low on the list.

“Ah!” Ryou exclaimed a minute later, removing what looked like a short black jacket from one of the bags, handing it to Bakura with a hopeful smile.

The Thief’s eyes roamed over it appreciatively. It was leather, far shorter than his old coat, probably finishing just at his waist. It was decorated with silver zips and buckles and had a tall collar that resembled the one on his old coat.

“What do you think?”

Bakura didn’t answer, but he secretly thought the coat was really cool, slipping it over his shoulder and walking to the glass fronted cabinet to get a look at himself.

“I didn’t know what size to get, so I just guessed.” Ryou admitted from somewhere over his shoulder, playing with his fingers nervously.

After a few moments of silent contemplation that consisted of Bakura admiring himself and tugging at the collar so it rested perfectly round his pale neck, he turned around with a pleased grin, ruffling Ryou’s hair.

“It’s great,” he remarked gruffly.

Ryou’s face lit up and he clapped his hands together happily, like a small girl might when told she could have extra ice-cream.

“I wasn’t sure you’d like it, but it’s kind of like your old one, so I just figured maybe you would.” Ryou babbled, blushing at Bakura’s praise.

“Ry,” Bakura said sternly. “You’re waffling.”

Ryou’s face lit up pink and he fell silent, smiling in embarrassment.

Bakura shook his head exasperatedly, his Hikari truly was the anxious type. He stepped closer to him, wrapping an arm around his neck and pressing a kiss to his head.

“Thanks.”

“Y-you’re welcome!” Ryou squeaked, still slightly unused to any act of affection, especially from Bakura.

“What else did you get?” The Thief enquired, returning to his seat at the table and relighting the half cigarette from earlier. Ryou looked utterly grateful for a change of topic, and began unloading the bags, explaining every item with gleeful enthusiasm.

* * *

 

“How exactly am I expected to smuggle that,” here Bakura gestured to the rucksack Mariku carried. “Through airport security?”

“You’re going to sew it into the lining of your suitcase.”

This received a blank look and a raised eyebrow. “You honestly think I know how to sew?”

Mariku sighed in exasperation, “Ra, you’re useless. How does that sweet little cream puff put up with you?”

Bakura glared, growl rising in his throat.

“Relax, Thief.” Mariku leered, “Ryou is yours, for now anyway. But remember, if you fail. If you get caught, your delicious vanilla slice is mine.”

“I won’t get caught.” Bakura spat, holding his hand out for the rucksack. “Now give me the bag and fuck off.”

Mariku’s smile practically split his face in two. “What terrible manners, Bakura. Remember that me and you are the only ones who know about this deal. It could so easily slip. I wonder what Ryou would say if he knew your generous gesture was a front for you to get your grubby hands on some money.”

Bakura bristled with anger, but knew Mariku was right. He couldn’t risk doing anything that might result in Ryou finding out the truth behind the holiday.

“Fine,” Bakura agreed reluctantly. “I’ll stick to the plan and ring you when we get through security at both ends, okay?”

“There’s a good Thief.” Mariku condescended, finally passing the bag to Bakura, who unzipped it for a quick glance.

Two large, clear plastic bags were placed in the bottom, each filled with fine, pure white powder. Bakura swallowed, there was enough here to send him to jail for twenty years, or for him to become a very rich man.

“When do I get the money?”

“When my contact receives the packages I’ll wire it to your account. I can make it look like it was left by a relative, so the bank won’t get suspicious.”

Bakura raised an eyebrow, zipping the bag shut securely and swinging it onto his shoulders, feeling it weigh him down ominously. “You sure have it all planned out.”

Mariku grinned proudly, “It’s not my first job. There’s plenty of money in it for me too, so I can’t risk you fucking it up.”

Bakura felt his eye twitch in indignation. “I won’t fuck it up.”

Mariku nodded dismissively, turning to walk away, pausing at the entrance to the dark alleyway to shoot Bakura a final warning look. “If you do, he’s mine.”

With a dramatic swish of his purple cape, Mariku disappeared around the corner, leaving Bakura to glare at nothing as he pressed his nails hard into his skin.

“You’ll never get him.” He hissed, almost to himself. “He’s mine.”

* * *

 

Sewing, as it turned out, was a lot more troublesome than the Thief would ever have imagined. For a start there was the fact that he had to unpick the suitcases lining first, without leaving straggly threads for Ryou or the airport staff to notice and become suspicious about. This meant he had to locate every miniscule stitch and cut it with a small unpicking device that a woman in a craft shop had assured him would be perfect for the job. Not that he’d told her the truth about the job, obviously, but he’d given her a vague idea. He’d felt distinctly out of place in the cosy store, surrounded by multi-coloured ribbons, balls of wool, and a stupid amount of other crafty goods. The woman had also recommended a book to him, ‘sewing for beginners,’ which he had immediately agreed to buy, as well as finding him everything else he needed. Bakura had been surprised to see just how many sharp things sewing needed, pins, needles, scissors. He’d noted to himself that a small sewing kit would be perfect to carry around as a sort of last resort if his other weapons were ever lost or taken. A slim needle, straight into the jugular or even the eyeball, would at least stop an attacker for a moment.

But by the time Bakura had unstitched one suitcase, placed the bagged cocaine carefully inside, and clumsily sown it back up, he was sick to death of sharp things. His finger-tips were bleeding and sore where he had accidentally stabbed himself repeatedly and his eyes were stinging from the dim light he was working in. He had a crick in his neck from constantly turning to make sure Ryou wasn’t awake and about to walk in on him. He sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly as he remembered he still had another suitcase to prepare and fill with its precious, dangerous load.

Moving close to inspect his work, he had to admit that it wasn’t bad, the stitches were only visible when millimetres away from the suitcase, which he assumed even the most stringent security guard wouldn’t be.

Now he just had to hope that Ryou wouldn’t notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at- motorcycle-chan.tumblr.com  
> Or DMMd side blog- minky-way.tumblr.com


	17. Chapter 17

The big day was finally here, and Ryou was so bouncy Bakura was having to physically restrain himself from strangling the smaller boy. He spent half the morning drinking strong coffee and the other half cursing Mariku for booking afternoon flights, which meant Ryou had a whole five hours in which to panic over every little thing and unpack and repack several times. Of course, it also meant the Thief had far longer to think over the horribly vague details of his task, get through security without being caught. That was terrifying enough in itself, if, Ra forbid, they were caught, there was no way he could deny it. The most he would be able to do would be to try and prove Ryou’s innocence so he could hopefully get off free without Mariku needing to fulfil his half of the bargain. There was also the small matter of getting the drugs to their buyers without Ryou becoming suspicious or noticing Bakura sneaking off unexplained in a strange country where he didn’t know anyone. So of course, with all that on his mind, it was no wonder Bakura spent the morning in a state he could only describe as jumpy.

“’Kura! Are you even listening to me?” Ryou demanded from opposite Bakura at the table where he sat with what looked, bizarrely, like a dagger in one hand, and the other resting on his hip in what could only be annoyance.

“No.” The Thief replied bluntly, lighting a fresh cigarette and feeling extremely grateful that Ryou hadn’t noticed his excessive smoking.

“Bakuraaa!” Ryou whined, slumping into a vacant chair with a long suffering expression and waving the dagger absently in the air. “Why was this in your hand luggage?”

“Just in case,” Bakura shrugged absently.

Ryou rolled his eyes exasperatedly, dropping the heavy dagger to the table with a thump that made Bakura glare. He’d had that dagger for several thousand years, he wouldn’t be best impressed if Ryou carelessly damaged it now.

“In case of what, we’ll be on an aeroplane. What do you think’s going to happen exactly?”

Taking a deep, and not as calming as he wished drag, Bakura sighed tiredly, rubbing his temples and taking the dagger from the table, spinning it with ease. “Fine, I’ll put it in my suitcase instead then.”

Thinking the problem was solved, Bakura returned to ignoring Ryou and counting the hours until his possible fall from notoriety and a twenty five year prison sentence. He was snapped back to reality as a hand roughly whacked him in the side of the head, catching him off guard and making his cigarette fall to the floor.

“What? What is it this time?” He growled angrily, once again reminding himself that strangling Ryou just before their big trip might put a dampener on the holiday.

“What is up with you today?” Ryou asked, eyes narrowing in a horrible mixture of suspicion and concern as Bakura retrieved the still smoking cigarette and shoved it between cracked lips. “I said, you can’t take knives on planes anymore.”

This made Bakura’s eyes snap to attention, focusing his attention onto Ryou fully as his brain tried to figure this out. “Seriously?”

“Yes Bakura, no knives.” Now Ryou was the one who seemed irritated, enthusiasm fading under Bakura’s gloomy mood.

“What am I meant to do when we get there then?” Bakura wondered quietly, he wasn’t too keen on the idea of being in a foreign country without a weapon, let alone acting as a drug mule.

“You were planning something that needed a dagger?” Ryou asked incredulously, eyebrow raised in wonder.

Bakura fixed him with a steely glare, deliberately puffing smoke into his face. “Don’t be stupid. I’ll just have to get one over there I guess.”

There was silence after this, which Bakura assumed meant he had won the argument and Ryou had no further rebukes. Of course, as was so often the case, he was wrong.

“What do you know about England?” Ryou asked, seemingly unrelated question coming from nowhere and making Bakura furrow his brows and shrug nonchalantly.

“Not much. It rains a lot, you all drink tea and eat fish and chips. Um, you’ve got a Queen and posh accents.”

Ryou merely blinked at him in disbelief for a second before starting to giggle quietly at how utterly stereotypical that response had been.

“What’s so funny?” Bakura demanded, glad at least that Ryou seemed to have gained some of his pep back, even if it was at his own expense.

“Nothing much, just... did you pay no attention when we lived in England?”

Ryou was referring to the time when Bakura had inhabited the millennium ring, as Bakura well knew.

“Well it was only for about four years before you moved here and I spent them in the ring, so not really.” Bakura reasoned, he’d spent most of that time trying to figure out a way of escaping from the ring, so taking in the scenery had never been his top priority. In fact he’d only begun possessing Ryou’s body after they’d moved countries, so he’d never even been physically in England.

Ryou nodded slowly, “I guess you’ve got a point.” He smiled a minute later, “you’re mostly right about the rain though.”

“Never liked rain much.” Bakura remarked, “We didn’t get any in Egypt.”

Chestnut eyes flickered up to Bakura’s face, which seemed almost nostalgic, keen to hear more about Bakura’s life in Ancient Egypt as ever, Ryou stood to make himself a hot drink.

“Not even once?” He asked, retrieving two mugs from the cupboard and flicking on the kettle to boil.

Feeling his memories of Egypt flooding back, Bakura sank into his chair, thinking hard about the good times before the massacre, which had become blurry over the long years.

“I think it did once.” He muttered uncertainly, vague images of damp tanned skin filled his vision, laughing with other children in their soaked sandals. Dancing in damp sand and feeling the droplets hit his skin refreshingly for the first time. “The locals said it was a blessing from Ra.”

Ryou just listened silently, Bakura almost never talked about Egypt, before or after the Kul Elna massacre, and he felt honored to be able to know more about the Thief’s past before he came twisted and bent on revenge.

“My mother,” here Bakura’s voice hitched momentarily, but if either boy noticed they didn’t mention it. “She brought all of the cooking pots out of the house to fill them. She said the water was sent because of the bad harvest the year before, as an apology from the God’s for our suffering.”

The Thief could remember that year all too well, words coming from his mouth unbidden and almost unnoticed as he lost himself in the past. “The stretch of the Nile a few miles from the village dried up. The crops failed and the cattle died. I learnt to pick pocket that year. One of the men would take me to the markets and send me out to steal from people while they were distracted looking at the goods.”

“Did you ever get caught?” Ryou asked, returning to the table with two mugs, peach tea for him and black coffee for Bakura.

“Just once. I tried to get a jade bracelet off someone and her husband noticed.” He chuckled slightly, taking his coffee absently. “I got one hell of a beating. I could barely walk for a week after he was finished. My mother was so angry, she said the God’s had been right to punish me.”

Bakura’s happy face fell and with a rush he returned to the present, in his small kitchen, full of technology that would have baffled everyone he’d known, drinking coffee with his Hikari. His mother’s words that day had stayed with him through everything, through his years as the Thief King, through all the years scheming against the Pharaoh and his brat, through getting a body, everything. He’d often wondered what she would have said about his lifestyle if she could see it, he would be a huge disappointment no doubt. If his mother had gotten so angry over a little petty theft, what would she think of the murders he had committed? The people whose lives he had ruined? It was rather pathetic, he supposed, a fully grown man feeling guilty for disappointing his mother, not very like his usual self at all.

“’Kura?” A small hand on his own broke him from his thoughts and he blinked away any pictures of the past, realising suddenly he couldn’t remember his mother’s face. “Are you okay? You looked upset.”

“I’m fine.” He replied coldly, though he didn’t remove Ryou’s hand, nor complain when the whitette interlocked their fingers.

* * *

 

“Bakura! The taxi’s here!”

“Coming!” Said Thief yelled back down the stairs, wondering why on earth all the curtains were closed and nearly falling down the stairs at the lack of light. “Why the bloody hell are all the curtains shut?”

Heaving a suitcase probably twice his weight through the hall, Ryou didn’t even look up as he answered, “So we won’t get burgled while we’re away.”

The logic behind this sentence evaded the Thief, who merely shrugged and wondered who’d want to rob them anyway. “Right, of course.” He muttered sarcastically, moving to take the suitcase from Ryou, lifting it with little trouble and earning an irritated pout from the tired Hikari. “You get the hand luggage and lock up, I’ll get the suitcases. I don’t fancy you dislocating an arm.”

The smaller whitette didn’t reply but rolled his eyes and followed Bakura’s instructions, collecting the two small rucksacks and swinging them over his shoulders, giving one last look around the empty entrance hall before swinging the door shut behind him.

* * *

 

The taxi zoomed through icy streets at a speed Bakura was certain was neither legal nor safe, not that he’d ever complain though. Ryou had his face pressed against the window like a small child, waiting for the sight of airplanes setting off from the huge building they were approaching.

“You boys off on holiday?” The taxi driver asked, friendly tone relaxing Ryou, who fell away from the window with a pleased giggle as he saw Bakura’s raised eyebrows at his childish behavior.

“Yep!” Ryou answered happily, “We’re going to England.”

“Bit young to be going all that way by yourselves aren’t you? You got family over there?”

Bakura bit back his retort about being a three thousand year old spirit, figuring it would just worry the taxi driver more, besides, his body looked older than it technically was, so the man shouldn’t have been worried in the first place.

Ryou took a while to reply, seeming almost uncertain, “yeah, my father.”

The taxi driver nodded in understanding, seeming to have decided to drop the subject. “Meant to be cold over there, hope you packed lots of warm clothing.”

The small talk continued like that for a while, Ryou wittering happily about England and how excited he was, and the taxi driver asking questions and laughing at Ryou’s endless enthusiasm. Bakura just watched with cold crimson eyes, unable to ignore the taxi driver’s suspicious eyes meeting his frequently in the rear view mirror.

When they finally reached the airport, a building so huge Bakura was almost intimidated, the taxi driver, Ralph apparently, helped them unload their suitcases and fetched them a trolley.

“Well, have a good holiday boys.” He smiled, waving as he drove off into the distance.

“Bye!” Ryou trilled, waving back until the car was out of sight before finally turning to look at Bakura. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, course I am.” Bakura responded quickly, taking Ryou’s rucksack and placing it atop the pile of suitcases on the trolley. “Let’s go.”

* * *

 

“Good afternoon and welcome to British Airways, may I see your boarding cards?” The chirpy attendant asked, perfectly manicured hand held forwards expectantly as Ryou, organised as always, removed said cards from his inside jacket pocket and handed them over.

“Okay, Mr. Bakura and... Mr. Bakura? You’re travelling to Gatwick airport in London today, is that correct?”

“Yes, that’s right.” Ryou smiled, nudging Bakura who grunted in affirmation, prompting the lady to raise a perfectly plucked eyebrow and Ryou to roll his eyes.

“Do you have any luggage to board?” The woman asked, despite the fact that Bakura was now leaning over the luggage trolley looking bored. “If you’d like to place them on the belt and we’ll weigh, label and get them sent through security for you. You can keep hold of your hand luggage, provided it’s less than the minimum weight allowance and doesn't contain any of the prohibited items.” Here she gestured to a brightly coloured list on the wall behind her, with pictures of knives, lighters and other objects with bold black lines crossing them out. “If not I’m afraid they will have to go with your other luggage and you’ll have to pay an additional cost depending on their weight.”

Bakura sighed quietly, wondering how long she’d witter on for and growing suspicious that she was doing it on purpose to make him more nervous. Of course she wasn't, but the Thief was paranoid as it was, without the fact that one of the cases held a large amount of a very expensive, very illegal, class A drug. Not that Ryou knew that as he enthusiastically dragged the heavy suitcases off the trolley, shooting Bakura a dark look as he struggled, eventually prompting him to help.

“Did you pack your suitcases yourself?” A nod of confirmation, though Ryou had packed for Bakura, it was basically the same thing where they were concerned. “Has anybody given you anything to pack or transport for them?”

Ryou of course, shook his head immediately, looking every inch the innocent Hikari he was, Bakura shook his head too, though his throat was dry and he could feel his heart thumping in his chest.

“Are there any items in your luggage you’d like to declare? Any illegal packages, items or goods that may need a separate travel licence?”

“Nope.” Ryou grinned, Bakura nodding his agreement and trying to wipe his sweating palms dry without drawing attention to himself.

“Alright then, please follow the desks round to security with your hand luggage and enjoy your flight with us today.” The woman trilled, already waving the next people in line forwards, seemingly happy with the pathetic responses they’d given.

Bakura gladly ditched the stupid wobbly luggage trolley and grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and following Ryou through to security. This part should be okay, their hand luggage was free of any offensive items, and the suitcases were somewhere deep in the system. It wasn't until they reached the departure gate and their luggage had been scanned and, possibly, opened for checks, that Bakura really needed to worry. So he was able to stay calm as he was asked to remove his belt, boots and coat and, after the Millennium necklace set off the alarms, was also frisked by a rather enthusiastic woman who he noticed Ryou glaring at as she ran hands down his chest.

* * *

 

If looks could kill, Bakura Ryou would have died a long time ago. Bakura had to drag him away from the windows in the departure lounge at least four times, and eventually gave up, allowing him to kneel in his uncomfortable plastic seat and watch the figures on the tarmac.

“Look Kura!” He trilled for what felt like the millionth time as a plane lined up on the runway, bound for Ireland based on the green shamrock on the tail fin.

“Oh look, another plane.” Bakura commented sarcastically, cursing the airport for not allowing smoking indoors. “It’s not like we’re at an airport or anything.”

This earned him a smack on the arm and a pout that only made him roll his eyes, yanking Ryou round in his chair so he was sat like a normal person.

“I can’t believe we’re an hour early for our flight.” Bakura grumbled, fingers zipping and unzipping his jacket pockets in lieu of having a dagger to play with.

“It’s better than being late and having to rush!” Ryou defended himself.

* * *

 

It may have been a good idea, but all it did was allow Bakura’s nervousness to grow until even Ryou noticed his twitching and the way his head snapped to attention at the slightest noise.

“Are you okay?” He asked, pausing in eating the crisps Bakura had bought them to instead regard him with concern. “You look nervous.”

“Why would I be nervous?” Bakura spat, unusual level of venom in his voice surprising even himself as Ryou flinched.

“You’re not...” Ryou trailed off, muttering to himself unintelligibly. “You can’t be... scared of flying?”

Bakura let out an audible breath of relief, thinking Ryou had worked out him and Mariku’s ‘business’. He could practically feel his villainous traits fading as he instead nodded once, sharply, finding arms wrapped around his torso a second later and a shrill voice in his ear.

“That’s so cute Kura!” Ryou giggled, unaware of Bakura’s growing desire to strangle him. “I can’t believe I didn't realize!”

Bakura was already regretting his lie, wondering just how much Ryou would manage to condescend him during their long flight when-

“Mr. Bakura?” A voice spoke up from beside them, and The Thief felt his heart leap uncomfortably, clenching hard in his chest as he turned, Ryou peering out from his chest and detaching himself uncomfortably.

“Yes, is anything wrong?” His face was screwed up into what Bakura would in any other situation see as a cute expression of confusion, but his blood was pounding too loudly in his ears for him to even notice.

“Come with me.” The man continued, and Bakura noticed with a dry swallow the holstered gun attached to his belt. Running clearly wouldn't be an option, and would only prove his guilt anyway. After a nudge in the ribs from his Hikari got him moving again, he shouldered his bag, Mariku’s voice running heavily through his head even as he blindly followed them.

When they paused at the departure gate, Bakura nearly collapsed with relief. This wasn't some hidden room for interrogation or with a stainless steel table for in-depth bodily examinations. Ryou was once again pouting in confusion, staring between the man who had summoned them and the gate with increasing understanding.

“Sorry about that, your flight’s boarding early.” Bakura could have killed as the man broke out into a smile, taking their tickets from a nervously amused Ryou and ushering them into the tunnel that led to the plane.

* * *

 

"You look like you're going to throw up, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He spoke between gritted teeth, hand digging into the armrest between them tightly enough to fray the already worn material. It earned him a disbelieving look and a raised white eyebrow, but thankfully Ryou turned away in favour of studying the emergency leaflet tucked into the magazine holder in front of them. The glossy pages detailing what to do in the event of fire, loss of air pressure, or crash landing did nothing to soothe the churning of Bakura's already tense stomach.

"How long d'you reckon we'd survive if we crashed into the sea?"

"About as long as you will if you don't shut the fuck up." Bakura practically hissed, trying to drive away the image of plunging down down down only to crash into the icy cold sea of late November, where hypothermia and frostbite would claim them all too soon.

"Okay, shutting up." Ryou muttered to himself, seeming far too comfortable with the situation for Bakura's liking, who just watched the safety demonstration with apparently unnerving focus, if the air-stewardesses clumsiness and nervous glances were anything to go by. "You've never been on a plane before, have you?"

The Thief clenched his jaw, silently reminding himself to kill Ryou the moment they landed. "No."

"It's only natural that you're scared then, but it's alright, the chances of us crashing are incredibly low, under one in a million I think. I mean, how often do you hear about a plane going down?"

If Ryou thought this was helping, it wasn't. Bakura was too proud to admit he was scared, which he was, terrified in fact. This was the only part of Mariku's excellent plan he hadn't thought about. The crossing from England to Japan Ryou made years ago had been on a ferry, and Bakura hadn't even been with him then. His own journey from Egypt to Japan had been by plane, but he had been trapped in the Millennium Ring, which hardly constituted to allow a proper experience of air-travel. It was all just so unnatural, to be in a huge, immensely heavy plane miles above the ground, so high they were in or above the clouds themselves. There had been nothing like it in his day, Ancient Egypt had been very basic when it came to travel, horses, camels or chariots were as exciting as it got, and most of the time he travelled on foot, horses were prone to sickness and were unreliable at the best of times. Plus, horses were notoriously hard to steal, even for the skilled Thief, not that it had ever stopped him of course.

"I am not scared." He hissed, sending Ryou a glare that didn't even phase him.

"Sure." It was obvious the smaller whitette didn't believe a word he said, instead rooting around in his pocket to remove a packet of boiled sweets, handing one to Bakura without explanation, rolling his eyes as he stared at blankly. "Suck it as we take off, it'll stop the air pressure making your ears pop."

"Oh, okay." Bakura replied, pretending he'd understood what Ryou was talking about. Air pressure? Physics was somewhat beyond the Thief, occasional nosy glances at Ryou's school lessons or homework just making his head spin.

Only seconds later the cabin lights dimmed, and an all-too-cheerful captain made the announcement that they were setting off. The seat belt sign was illuminated, though Bakura had secured his the moment he had sat down, pulling it so tightly it almost crushed him, despite his doubt that it would prove very effective in an emergency situation. He followed Ryou's example, unwrapping the sweet from its crinkly wrapper and sticking it into his mouth, trying to hide how much his hands were shaking. It was orange, and tasted sweet, too sweet, filling his mouth with cloying sugar that coated his teeth and made his tongue fuzzy. They weren't even airborne yet and he was on the verge of throwing up.

Ignoring the hum of the engines start and the slow trundling of the aeroplane across the tarmac, he instead focused on Ryou, who had his face turned to the window and was sucking on his sweet with an excited smile. His white hair was somewhat dishevelled from the cramped quarters and the rucksack that had fallen from the overhead lockers onto him when he had stowed it away less than securely. He had already ditched his jumper, now wearing a polo shirt that Bakura was sure he had never seen before, a pale shade of blue with two red stripes on the collar. It was... nice. He'd filled the magazine holder with a selection of entertainment, a deck of cards, a novel and some bizarre trading card game that was apparently all the rage in Japan, though Bakura had never heard of it. His wallet sat there too, stuffed with Bakura's money, to buy food and drinks for their stupidly long journey.

The whirring of the engines suddenly grew louder and Bakura swallowed loudly, tearing his eyes from the back of Ryou's head to the seats in front of them, suddenly glad they were sat at the very back of the plane so none of the other passengers could see the utter terror on his face as the tarmac began whipping past the window unnaturally fast.

"Take-off's the worst bit," Ryou remarked from his side, excitement reduced slightly as nervousness crept into his voice. "But it doesn't last long."

The Thief didn't trust himself to speak, just shutting his eyes as his stomach rolled and the nose of the plane began to lift, praying to Ra fervently not to let him die like this, not now. He wasn't sure exactly when it happened, but there was a sudden horrible feeling of having nothing under them as the wheels left the runway and they were in the air, and he reached out in a panic, soft hand finding his easily and rubbing his knuckles with a soothing rhythm.

He didn't open his eyes for a long time, even after the lights had come up again and the seat belt sign flicked off, they were level and travelling above the clouds smoothly. The first thing he saw were large, chocolate brown eyes, flickering with an almost motherly concern.

"You okay?" His voice was soft and hushed, knowing Bakura would likely murder him if he let any of the other passengers know of his anxious state.

"Mm." He nodded tensely, still refusing to release Ryou's hand, embarrassed to admit how grounded it made him feel, and instead leaned forwards to look out of the window. Not to mention that the Thief being scared was practically unheard of, in all his years of existence he had only been truly terrified about four times.

It was stunning, the sun was just above them, lighting the fluffy clouds with pinks and yellows that contrasted the perfectly blue sky, his mouth must have opened in amazement, Ryou's giggle sounding from his side, it was so different to anything he had seen before he couldn't help it.

"Pretty, right?"

"It's alright." Bakura tore his eyes away, usual look of contempt on his face, though he couldn't help but sneak glances every now and again, something Ryou didn't miss but decided not to comment on.

"Um, can I have my hand back? You're kind of squishing it...” The blush on Ryou's cheeks distracted the Thief, barely hearing his words, but pulling away the second they registered with a blush of his own.

* * *

 

"Eleven fucking hours." Bakura complained loudly as they disembarked onto the runway, an exhausted, yawning mass of people who looked all too unimpressed at their less than glamorous exit from the plane. "On a shitty little plane where I can't even bloody smoke. We get here, and it's fucking raining."

Ryou ignored him, breathing in the air of his country deeply, familiar damp scent meeting his nostrils and flooding him with fond nostalgia and more than a little sadness. "Come on, let's get our bags then we can get into the dry."

* * *

 

Ryou was nearly falling asleep as he watched the carousel trundle round slowly, watching identical dull suitcases be claimed by their fellow baggy-eyed travellers. Bakura however, was getting twitchy and irritated, over 12 hours without a cigarette and he could feel his fingers constantly lunging for the packet in his pocket. Their suitcases must have passed them at least three times before either of them could identify them as their own, dragging them off the worn belt with difficulty. By now they were the only people left in the huge echoing room, unused luggage trolleys and unmoving conveyor belts creating a strange atmosphere. But Bakura could finally breathe a sigh of relief, the suitcases, and their contents, had gone untouched, he could almost laugh at the hilarity of it all. He had actually gotten away with it! Now all he had to manage was the handover and the money was his and he could relax and actually enjoy the rest of his holiday.

* * *

 

"Where's the fucking taxi? We rang like an hour ago."

"It was twenty minutes ago, and its nearly 5am, they'll be busy." Ryou replied calmly from where he sat on his suitcase, sheltered by the overhanging airport from the rain that fell heavily from the black sky.

"Busy doing what? Who the fuck needs a taxi at 5am?"

"We do." Ryou added logically, earning an irritated eye roll from his companion. "And this is London Bakura, it'll always be really busy."

They fell silent after that, Ryou trying to stay awake despite the soothing sound of the rain and the confusion that his body clock was undergoing, having lost eight hours of day somewhere along their journey.

"Oi, it's here." The black taxi pulled up, typically overweight driver making no attempt to help them with their suitcases, which they bodily threw into the boot before climbing in themselves, Ryou stating the name of the hotel before sinking into his seat to enjoy the scenery of his country.

* * *

 

The hotel, when they finally negotiated check in and entered the room, was nicer than Bakura had expected, especially considering the bargain price he had paid. Mariku, while willing to pay for two return flights was not happy about paying for the hotel for them, especially as they might not even end up making it there, were the security to sense a problem. However, there was one small, but significant problem.

“There’s only one bed.” Bakura remarked emotionlessly, stating the obvious even as he threw his suitcase onto the bed where it bounced to a halt.

“You booked the room, did you tick the wrong box or something?” Ryou wondered, placing his hand luggage carefully on the purple armchair in the corner.

“I don’t think so,” The Thief continued, opening the door to the bathroom and surveying it with skeptical eyes, noticing the allocated amount of towels was somewhat pathetic, especially with how long both of them wore their hair. “I said we wanted a double.”

Bakura left the bathroom to be met with a Ryou who looked so amused it was almost starling, “what?” He snapped, not very much enjoying being laughed at.

“You’re such a baka.” Ryou giggled, not noticing the dark glare being sent his way that would make lesser mortals quiver with fright. “Double means one bed, twin means two single beds.”

Now was Bakura’s turn to look confused, “what? That’s stupid...”

“What did you think twin meant then?”

“I don’t know!” Bakura shrugged, indignantly. “Like... for kids or something?”

Ryou didn't respond, but from his raised eyebrow the Thief could tell he was asking just how dumb his Yami was, something Bakura did not appreciate. He sighed a moment later as Bakura’s glare remained unwavering, perching himself on the bed casually and surveying the room. All in all, it wasn't bad for a budget hotel costing £100 a night. The bed was large and there were spare pillows on a shelf of the built in storage. There was a desk with a table and lamp under a large flat screen. There were hooks behind the door and a dressing table with a light up mirror, as well as two bedside tables and the bucket chair Ryou’s hand luggage currently resided in.

“Well we have two options,” Ryou started logically. “Either we go down to reception and ask for two single rooms, or one twin room. Or we just manage here.”

Bakura wasn't entirely sure what to suggest, having separate rooms would make his illegal business here so much easier as he’d just have to wait til Ryou was asleep or showering and slip out. But to suggest that, especially with the uncertain nature of their relationship, seemed counterproductive. Bakura saw no legitimate problem in sharing a room, and indeed a bed with Ryou, most mornings at home saw them wake up cuddled up on the sofa. Not that cuddled was ever a phrase Bakura would use, or allow others to use regarding him, but that was the basic truth. Besides, the bed was pretty big and it would be easy enough for them to avoid each other if necessary.

“I don’t mind staying here.” He eventually voiced after realizing he’d been thinking about it for a little too long. “If you’re fine with it too.”

Ryou shrugged, unzipping his rucksack to remove two bottles of pop, throwing one to Bakura who caught it, grateful for something to quench his thirst after such a long journey.

“You’re paying, I’m fine with whatever.”

Ah yes, Bakura was paying. This whole trip was a wonderful, selfless sacrifice on the Thief’s part, a lovely gift for his previously under appreciated Hikari to signify their new friendship, or whatever it was they had now.

“I guess we’ll stay in here then.” Almost the minute the words left his mouth Ryou’s face lit up in an excited grin and he hastily unzipped the suitcase lying on the bed.

“Let’s unpack then!” The enthusiasm in the small whitette’s voice was ridiculous, especially after the horrifically long journey they had just undertaken, not to mention the significant time difference.

“Right now? Ry, we just arrived.” Bakura complained, about to light a cigarette before Ryou removed it from his lips with a frustrated look.

“One, this is Britain, you can’t smoke indoors anymore. Two, the sooner we unpack the sooner we can sleep. And three, once we've unpacked I’ll show you where you have to go to smoke. So are you going to help me or not?”

Bakura, of course, had no choice but to agree, grumbling about stupid laws and stupid countries and their rain and their taxis and their blah blah blah. Ryou just listened to it all with his usual sunny disposition, relishing the sound of the rain hammering on the windows, the scent of his homeland rushing through him when he, to Bakura’s objection, opened the window. Not that it would open all the way, a special catch having been added to ‘ensure the safety of our guests.’ Not that you’d die falling from a two story building anyway, as Bakura offered unhelpfully when Ryou complained the window was stuck and he came to investigate.

Finally, after much complaining from The Thief and many orders from Ryou, they were unpacked, clothes safely on the wardrobe hangers, which Ryou explained were designed so they couldn't be stolen, leading to a comment from Bakura about how poor the British must be if they stole clothes hangers and a scolding from Ryou. Their bath items, were spread across the counter in front of the huge mirror in the bathroom, which the smaller whitette had to drag his Yami away from more than once as he paused to admire himself. Their hair products, namely a hairbrush and some de-tangling spray sat on the dressing table and their personal effects were on either bedside table. There had been some argument over who got which side of the bed, which had eventually been won by Bakura, who used the ‘I’m paying,’ excuse to great effect, successfully claiming the left side for himself.

“Now we’re done can you show me where in this Ra-forsaken country I can smoke.” Bakura complained, as he had been doing since they arrived at the airport to black, cloudy skies and that rain you only seem to get in the UK, that looks light but manages to soak you in second, chilling right to your bones.

“Alright fine, I’ll show you.” Ryou sighed, having forgotten his promise and been looking forwards to a short nap before they got something to eat.

* * *

 

“Here?” Bakura asked skeptically.

“Here.” Ryou confirmed, gesturing to the plastic structure that resembled a bus stop with no sides.

“Seriously? Not only do you have to go outside to smoke, but you have to stand in this ridiculous thing?”

“Yes Bakura. It’s illegal to smoke inside places of work or hotels. If you had your own house, you could smoke inside then.”

“This country is stupid.” Bakura complained, though he stepped into the shelter anyway, leaning against the metal bar that supported it and lighting up. Taking a long, delicious, much needed drag and exhaling long and loud. “Fuck I needed that.”

Ryou said nothing, merely rolling his eyes and stepping inside beside the Thief, running fingers through his sopping wet hair with interest.

“Does it ever stop raining?” The Yami grumbled, wrapping his leather jacket more tightly around himself and wishing he still had his old, much warmer coat. Though he doubted it would keep him warm with the large slash marks in it, and the bloodstains might attract unwanted attention.

“Sometimes.” Ryou smiled affectionately, “it’s lovely in the summer. The parks are full of flowers and the sky is completely blue.”

“We should have waited til summer.”

Ryou tried to remain calm despite the Thief’s constant childish bitching, but it was harder than he’d thought. “Are you determined to complain this entire time?” He demanded, arms crossed in an accusatory fashion. “You don’t hear me complaining about Egypt.”

Bakura regarded his irritated Hikari with his usual indifference, not taking his attention away from his glowing cigarette for a moment. “We’re not in Egypt.”

A noise came from Ryou that Bakura could only describe as that of utter annoyance, air leaving him in a huffing sigh.

Bakura rolled his eyes, silently asking the Gods just why he’d been saddled with such a hormonal Hikari. “Alright, alright. I get your point. I’ll stop.”

“Thank you.” The whitette sighed, “Although, the weather is pretty bad today. Hopefully it’ll clear up tomorrow and we can go exploring.”

Bakura’s eyes lit up at this, he always used to love exploring in Egypt, the caves to the north, or along the Nile, even in the markets and villages in the East. He would spend all night riding his horse to different places, always searching for something, revenge mostly, but some of his travels took him in the opposite direction of the palace and he often wondered what else it was he had been searching for.

“Kuraaa.” Ryou whined, leaning onto the Thief who absently wrapped an arm round his shoulders, playing with a strand of white hair without even registering what he was doing. “When we go back in, can we go for a nap?”

Bakura smiled at both the childish tone and request, though he just nodded, glancing down at his nearly finished cigarette. “Yeah, I am pretty tired.”

Bakura finished quickly, later denying that he wasted any of his long awaited smoke as he ground out the butt, where a tell-tale stretch of white showed he was lying.

* * *

 

The room was warm and inviting after the chilling winter winds and cold weather of outside, both boys pulling off soggy jackets and hanging them carefully over pegs at Ryou’s insistence. Bakura ran a hand through his hair with a disgusted expression, surveying his reflection in the mirror and noting with irritation that his bat-wing spiked hair was drooping pathetically. Or it was anyway, until a second later a white towel obscured his vision, causing him to tense up and reach for the pocket where his dagger normally resided.

“Calm down, I’m not going to attack you.” Ryou giggled, trying to sound exasperated but not managing as he rubbed Bakura’s head with some force, drying the white hair, which, to Bakura’s utter horror and Ryou’s joy, immediately fluffed up like a ducklings fur.

“Say anything and I’ll make you sleep on the floor.” The Thief threatened, removing the towel from his shoulders with a scowl and thrusting it at Ryou who took it good naturedly and began to dry his own locks, humming in a way Bakura wished he didn't find relaxing. He ignored his urge to watch Ryou, instead stripping out of his damp t-shirt and jeans, pulling off socks that were drenched with a grimace and, to his own surprise, placing them carefully over the heated towel rail in the bathroom. When he emerged a second later, he was met with a squeak of alarm, causing a single white eyebrow to raise in interest as he surveyed his blushing Hikari who clutched the towel to his chest.

“Something wrong?” He practically purred, stalking predatorily across the room to stand just in front of Ryou, reaching out teasingly only to take the towel and dump it on the floor, Ryou this time making a disagreeing noise, though only quietly. “Hm?”

“N-no.” The Hikari stuttered, ears now vivid magenta as he felt the heat radiate off Bakura’s body. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“If you say so,” The Thief shrugged, eyes glinting dangerously. “But if you asked me, I’d say you looked flustered, hm, Ry?”

“I’m just tired.” He had finally found his words, and although he knew that was a terrible excuse for his empty brain and sweating palms, it seemed to do the trick. Bakura just smirked in obvious disbelief, pulling the unnecessary crap off the bed and untucking the duvet, sliding into the bed with ease and reclining against the pillows casually with his arms crossed behind his head. The duvet pooled around his waist and Ryou had to force his eyes to stay above neck level, he had the feeling his head might just explode if he looked too closely at the image of a nearly naked Bakura, in bed and waiting for him.

“Aren't you going to get in then?” The Thief’s voice asked a second later, and the Hikari realized with horror that his eyes had indeed wandered and he was now staring intently at Bakura’s chiseled torso with all the subtlety of an elephant. “I thought you said you were tired?”

Ryou, not for the first time ever, cursed Bakura’s seemingly effortless ability to reduce him to a pile of wordless goop as he tore his eyes away from the appealing sight. It didn't help however, as he was aware of crimson eyes on him as he removed his t-shirt and jeans, shivering, though not from the cold. He knew he had pyjamas somewhere, and absently realized he should have retrieved them before stripping off. He had no plan of giving the Thief any more of a show than he already had and decided not to bother with them, sliding into bed and positioning himself right at the edge, blanket tucked up around his neck. The exact opposite of Bakura, Ryou was panicking  both internally and externally, he could feel his heart rate rise as the bed shifted beside him and a pale hand pulled him rather roughly towards the middle of the bed.

“You’ll fall off.” Was the only explanation the Thief gave, pausing to wonder something. “Do you reckon a double bed would fit in my room?”

The sudden, bizarre question startled Ryou out of his anxious state, turning his head to see Bakura looking adorably curious. “Yeah, probably. What’s wrong with the bed you have?”

“Nothing, it’s just a bit small.” There was literally nothing wrong with Bakura’s bed, it was a standard single and it was just about the perfect size for him, but a double created so many opportunities.

“We’ll go bed shopping when we get home.” Ryou’s sleepy statement surprised Bakura, who’d expected objections about unnecessary expenses and all the effort it would take to choose and put together a bed. Tiredness having destroyed his inhibitions, Ryou squirmed in an effort to get comfortable, accidentally ending up on Bakura’s side of the bed more than his own. Not that Bakura complained, as he reached over to flick off the bedside lamp and curled up as close to Ryou's heat as he'd allow himself. He was getting too close, but he couldn't help it, he just prayed everything would somehow work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr!- motorcycle-chan.tumblr.com  
> Or DMMd side blog- minky-way.tumblr.com


	18. Chapter 18

It was pretty standard now to wake up to find his limbs wrapped around Ryou and a head of white hair laying atop his chest, so he didn't make any attempt to move. Their beds back home were almost decorations by now, falling asleep on the sofa after watching too many movies was an almost nightly occurrence, as was waking up holding Ryou close. The fact that he did it unconsciously wasn't what worried him though, it was the fact that when he woke up he didn't mind. He didn't panic and pull away or disappear, or even yell at Ryou and ask what the fuck he thought he was doing. He remembered the days he wouldn't even let Ryou touch him, behaving like he was contagious and would infect him if they shared the same air.

He was small, very small, and delicate, almost fragile. His skin was pale and covered in remnants of Bakura's abuse, most visibly the scar along the back of one hand and the marks where the ring had stabbed into his flat, boyish chest, which was soft and utterly bereft of muscle. His ribs stuck out, rising and falling under thin skin as he breathed and Bakura was sure that, could he see, his spine would be visible as a line of lumps down his back. His face was peaceful while he slept, cheek pressed against Bakura's firmer chest, hair tickling at his collar-bones and breath ghosting across his warm skin. There was cold winter sunlight filtering into the room through the pitifully thin curtains, no doubt the reason the Thief had awoken in the first place. A quick glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table, careful not to wake the boy currently using him as a pillow, told him it was barely 11am. He was surprised they hadn't slept very long, the time difference was hellish, and the journey hadn't exactly been relaxing. Bakura had just decided to try and get some more sleep, when the white fuzz on his chest whined and the hand flung over his chest curled against his skin.

"Wha' time'sit?" The sleep-heavy voice asked, cute yawn leaving pink lips as their owner stretched against Bakura's skin before flopping back down to his original position.

"Nearly eleven."

"In the morning?" Ryou's voice made his disbelief clear, having gotten to bed at about half five after over twelve hours travelling, he had obviously expected to sleep away their entire first day. Bakura's chuckle was obviously answer enough as Ryou made a throaty noise of disapproval and raised his head to stare around the room groggily. His eyes met Bakura's, eyebrow raised in amusement as he surveyed his exhausted Hikari. "I took up like all of the bed, huh?"

"Sure looks that way." It seemed Ryou was a wriggly sleeper, and throughout the night had squirmed until Bakura was lying on a tiny slice of the huge bed, inches from falling onto the floor.

"Sorry, you should've just shoved me over." His apology wasn't hugely sincere, and he seemed to find the Thief's precarious perch amusing as he turned to lie on his stomach, head supported on crossed arms and facing Bakura. He seemed utterly unconcerned that he was still lying on the Thief's bare chest, simply enjoying his heat in the chill of the room.

"I'll bear that in mind." Though he knew full well he'd never be able to disturb Ryou's sleep, wondering quietly when he'd become such a sap. "So, what d'you wanna do today?"

Ryou's face immediately changed, his expression was closed off and his eyes looked away, tracing the long red scar down Bakura's front. "Well, I was thinking maybe we could visit my Dad? I was going to go later... but...”

"You think if you put it off you'll end up not going?" Bakura finished for him, Ryou's irritated glance and pout showing that he was completely right. "Well its fine with me, I've got a few things to say to him...”

His tone hardened as he remembered hearing Ryou crying late at night, waking from nightmares where his father abandoned him over and over again. The crash that had killed his mother and sister and torn his family apart repeating on a loop when his eyes closed and sleep took him. He never mentioned it to Bakura, but his mind link was weak and the Thief could slip in easily enough, roaming in Ryou's thoughts and memories.

"If we go you have to promise to be nice."

Bakura merely raised an eyebrow, if Ryou thought he could manage 'nice', he clearly didn't know him very well.

"Fine, nicer." Ryou corrected himself with an eye roll, sliding off the bed to stand beside it with tired legs, scratching his messy air absently. "I'm going for a shower, I feel gross."

"You look it." Bakura remarked, following Ryou's lead and climbing out of the warm bed to shiver in the chilly air of the room, window having been left open the night before and letting in an icy winter breeze.

"Thanks." The Hikari deadpanned, trying to ignore Bakura as he stretched upwards, back muscles contracting and flexing as he worked out the kinks from the rather uncomfortable position he'd been forced to sleep in.

"I'm going for a cigarette." Searching through his pockets revealed the treasured blue packet soon enough, gold lighter following suit a second later.

"You're going to get dressed first, right?" The white head was lost inside the wardrobe where he pulled out an outfit, short sleeved white shirt, red jumper and a pair of dark jeans.

"No, I thought I'd go out in my underwear." He scoffed, shooting his Hikari an indignant glance as he didn't even stop his rummaging. "Of course I'll get dressed first."

So he did, though allowing Ryou to pick out an outfit for him was probably a mistake. The shirt, which he wasn't even aware he owned was too tight around his neck, and the red checked pattern made him feel like he should be growing a beard and chopping down trees.

"I look like a lumberjack." He complained, unbuttoning the cuffs and pushing the sleeves up to his elbows, immediately feeling better and less like an idiot.

"You look smart. You need to make a good impression, remember? Or I won't be happy." Ryou commented neutrally, standing behind him on tiptoes to run a brush through his wayward locks.

"Oh no, then whatever will I do?" Bakura smirked sarcastically, grabbing the hand that held the brush and lowering it so his hair wouldn't be attacked any more, other hand moving to hold Ryou's chin. "I wouldn't want to face the wrath of Ryou."

Ryou knew he was being teased, but had to admit he didn't really mind, he'd rather have this Bakura than the one who used to beat and torment him. It was almost endearing, the way he constantly joked with him, it was almost like flirting, now that Ryou thought of it, but he was sure it wasn't intentional.

Seeing Ryou's small smile, Bakura grinned, leaning down to steal a quick kiss, amused when he was pushed away gently by a bright red boy.

"Your breath stinks." He grumbled, clearly embarrassed, though making no attempts to move away from Bakura.

This made the Thief laugh, hugging Ryou's head to his chest affectionately and pressing a kiss into the hair. "Go take your shower, I'll brush when I get back."

With that, he released his flushed Hikari, yanked on his leather jacket and left the room with a cheeky wave that made Ryou roll his eyes exasperatedly.

* * *

"I got breakfast." Bakura remarked as he re-entered the room where Ryou was sat on the bed flicking through a magazine he'd brought with him. "I think my accent confuses people."

"Well, you can't speak English technically."

Bakura blinked owlishly, questioning his Hikari's sanity even as they conversed in heavily-accented English. "Pretty sure I can...”

"Well yeah, but only because I can. Like you can only speak Japanese because I can."

That made more sense than the Thief cared to admit, though his mind quickly came up with a counter argument. "In that case why can't you speak Ancient Egyptian?"

A few minutes of silence passed as Ryou contemplated this, before shrugging uncaringly and taking the paper bag from Bakura's hands with interest. "You got vanilla slices! I haven't had one of these in years!"

"I'm not sure that's what I actually asked for, but whatever." This was a huge lie, Bakura knew full well what he had been ordering from the rather deaf old lady who ran the bakery across the road from the hotel. He'd heard Ryou speak of the delicious wonder of vanilla slices more than once, and when he'd announced the holiday, Ryou's mind link had filled with memories of home, one of which had been the tall confection.

Bakura removed his own from the bag with barely concealed suspicion, grimacing as the thin paper clung to the stupidly thick custard layer. It seemed to be sandwiched between two thin strips of puff pastry and the top was decorated with white icing and a brown zig-zag pattern. It was like nothing they had in Japan, looking extremely sickly and also near impossible to consume without covering yourself in pastry crumbs or gooey custard. Ryou however, took all of this in his stride, paper bag spread over his lap to catch any spillages as he munched happily on his slice, tongue flicking out to lick up flakes of pastry on his lips.

"It's not going to bite you." He remarked calmly as Bakura extended a finger to poke at the worryingly viscous custard layer, earning himself a glare.

However, Bakura soon decided to do what he did with all food, and dive in whole-heartedly, proceeding to cover his chin and lips in custard far more than Ryou had. He'd demolished it in a matter of seconds, aware of round brown eyes on him as he licked his fingers and cheeks clean like a cat, turning to give him a warning look, "what?" The confection had been surprisingly nice, the custard was cold and had a faint taste of vanilla and the pastry was pleasantly chewy, despite not usually having a sweet tooth, Bakura knew he'd happily eat one again.

Ryou shook his head quickly, diving into a bag beside the bed to remove a piece of paper and what looked like a folded map. "Nothing. Um, I think I worked out how to get to Dad's while you were out. It shouldn't take very long, and we get to pass Big Ben on the way."

"Big... Ben?" Bakura asked, having literally no knowledge of anywhere but the small area of Japan they lived in and of Ancient Egypt, so not knowing of any landmarks in London or anywhere else for that matter.

"It's a big clock tower." Ryou explained quickly, frowning slightly as Bakura's interest faded. He supposed it did sound rather dull, but hopefully the Thief would be at least mildly interested when they actually walked past.

"Oh, okay. Are you ready to go then?" The Thief's fingers were already twitching in need of a cigarette, despite the fact he'd had one not long ago.

"Mm." Ryou's nod and answer were stilted, but Bakura put it down to nerves, waiting patiently as he pulled on dark trainers and his outdoor clothing before practically pushing him out of the door.

* * *

 

"So what did you think of Big Ben?" Ryou asked, pulling his scarf tighter round his neck as an icy breeze threatened to whip away the blue fabric.

Bakura took a puff of his cigarette, filling the air with billowing clouds of white that matched those of his breath when it mingled with the chilled atmosphere. He shrugged, "it was alright I guess." It hadn't compared to any of the landmarks in Ancient Egypt, to the tall palaces made of sandstone and graceful alabaster that rose into the air and shone under the baking hot sun. Nor had it compared to the mountains and caves where he had spent many nights hiding his riches and camping out under the sparkling skies. But it was okay, for a clock.

"You really loved it, huh?" Ryou commented blandly, taking another glance at the map and making a sudden left turn into a street of plain, slightly run down terraced houses, each with a set of stairs leading up the front door for no apparent reason. "This is it."

"Number 31, right?" Bakura asked, glancing at the crumpled, aged looking note clutched in Ryou's gloved hand.

"Mm." He nodded coolly, glancing at the numbers on his left, 121, 119, 117, and realizing they still had a way to walk, taking a calming breath and placing the map away in his bag, which he refused to admit was a handbag, despite Bakura's constant teasing.

They reached the door too fast, far too fast, Ryou's stomach still churning and his hand sweating through his gloves as he clenched his fists and tried to sort his rapidly running thoughts. The number plate was scratched and dented, in serious need of a polish, as were the windows, streaked with grime and bird poo. The paint on the guttering and window-ledges was flaking off and the door looked like it could collapse with the tiniest pressure. The gold knocker was hanging off on one side and there was a hole where the letterbox had once been, there was a light on in the hallway and in what they assumed was the living room, showing someone was in.

"You okay?" Bakura asked after Ryou had stared at the door unmovingly for nearly ten minutes, "you want me to knock?"

"No." The shake in his voice was nearly undetectable, but Bakura knew him too well by this stage to bring it up. "I can do it."

The Thief watched as Ryou raised a trembling hand to settle just above the weather-warped wood and hovered it there, swallowing loudly in the cold street.

"It'll be fine, he's your father, I'm sure he'll be excited to see you after all this time." That was a total lie, Bakura knew better than to think Ryou's father would be thrilled after ignoring his own son for so long, but his words seemed to work, Ryou nodding decisively and squeezing Bakura's fingers, which had wormed into his own some time ago without either of them even registering it.

The knocks sounded deafening in the street, silence falling heavily around them as Ryou tried not to be sick and they listened for any sign of life from the house. Just as Ryou was looking nervous and about to knock, again, the door wrenched open violently, causing Ryou to squeak in surprise, Bakura immediately unlacing their fingers as he grabbed his elbow, stopping him falling backwards down the stairs.

After the initial alarm of the abrupt door opening, Ryou just stared at the figure who stood there with his arms crossed, looking unimpressed at having been summoned to his door. He didn't look good, time had taken its toll on him, his trousers were crumpled and paired with holey socks and his beer belly threatened to spill out from under the dirty shirt he was wearing. His eyes were red and puffy, there were dark bags under them and wrinkles formed on his forehead and between his brows as he narrowed his eyes at them, looking almost like he didn't recognize them. He had Ryou's eyes, Bakura noted silently, large and a dark chocolate brown, but his were deep-set in his face and looked tired and weary, whereas Ryou's sparkled with life. He looked like a man haunted, even as Ryou managed to smile at him weakly and lift his hand in an awkward wave, recognition sparking across his face as his arms uncrossed and his suspicious glare faded.

“Ryou? What are you doing here?”

“I-I came to visit, Dad.” Ryou answered, looking to Bakura for confirmation.

“I thought I told you I never wanted to see you again.” He replied coldly, shooting Bakura a suspicious look. “Who’s this?”

Ryou paused, he hadn't really applied a term to him and Bakura yet, friends, boyfriends? He wasn't entirely sure what to say, which is why he was grateful when Bakura took the decision away from him.

“I’m his housemate, Bakura.”

“I don’t remember saying you could have a housemate.” Ryou’s dad responded, blatantly ignoring the hand extended to him by the irritated looking Thief. “Does he pay rent?”

“Um,” Ryou answered, not enjoying this interrogation, “No, but he helps buy food and things like that.”

Ryou’s father was looking at Bakura with obvious dislike by now, nose wrinkled like there was a bad smell on his doorstep, opposed to his son and his friend.

“Don’t I give you enough to manage? Aren't I generous enough?” He demanded, not noticing the look of growing anger on Bakura’s face.

“Of course you are Dad,” Ryou replied quickly shooting Bakura a warning look.

"Hm." He snorted disbelievingly, and Bakura got a strong urge to punch him as he turned to disappear into the house, leaving the door open and turning to call over his shoulder. "I guess you better come in then."

* * *

 

The house on the inside was no better than it was outside, takeaway leaflets and old newspapers littered the dirty wood-effect laminate floor, the wallpaper that had once been white was stained yellow and large cobwebs hung from the ceiling where a single bulb flickered weakly.

"Sorry about the mess, I wasn't expecting visitors." The almost polite tone from the man offering them seats on the sofa made Bakura bristle with discomfort. The sofa sagged under them as they sat down, an exposed spring pressing into the Thief's back, and what he recognized as cigarette burns marring the musty fabric. The coffee table was littered with empty beer cans and the ashtray overflowed with cigarette butts, a cardboard container of old pizza filled the room with an unpleasant smell, almost as if it were rotting, which wouldn't even surprise Bakura given the state of the house.

"This yours?" Bakura raised his head from staring at the sticky floor, schooling his expression to look less disgusted and patting his pockets in confusion as he regarded the lighter in front of his face. It was his, and he took it with a forced smile, wondering just when it had fallen out of his pocket and somewhat grateful he hadn't lost it. Though he imagined if Ryou's father had realized it was real gold he'd never have seen it again.

"Be nice to have someone to smoke with for once." His tone was almost wistful as Bakura accepted the cigarette from the pack he was offered, Ryou grimacing and shaking his head from beside him even as he lit it with his newly returned lighter.

"A smoker, huh? You drink too?" Ryou's father asked, coughing unpleasantly as the smoke hit his lungs.

"Sometimes." Bakura replied, shrugging casually and shooting Ryou a look. This wasn't going as either of them had expected, though he was still trying to make a good impression.

"My kinda guy, what's your poison?" He was already raising himself out of the stained chair before either white haired boy could object, walking with shaky legs to a cupboard in the filthy kitchen.

"Got any beer?" That seemed like a safe bet, even Ryou couldn't complain about him drinking in the day if it was just a beer.

The man grunted like he'd requested something ridiculous and there was the sound of a fridge opening, Ryou's hands were twining and untwining in his lap nervously as he squirmed beside Bakura, who wasn't exactly comfortable either.

"Nah, fresh out. But we got... um, vodka, whiskey..? Or aren't you into hard liquor?" His voice was challenging despite the rough edge and occasional slurred words, and Bakura was never one to back down from a challenge.

"Either's good." He tried to ignore the brown eyes that burnt into the side of his head, able to sense Ryou's disapproval.

"Vodka it is." His dad announced, pulling out two glasses that Bakura doubted were very clean and pouring sloppy, and very generous measures into each.

"It's barely midday!" Ryou announced, disbelief clear in his voice as Bakura accepted the drink with a cool nod.

"What's your point?" Cold brown eyes landed on him, pleased expression of a minute ago totally gone. "Mm, have you boys met Michelle yet?"

The two boys on the sofa shared a confused look, before both shaking their heads.

"Who's Michelle?" Ryou asked cautiously, aware his father seemed to be volatile, to say the very least.

"You'll see." He smiled mysteriously, raising his voice a second later in a bellow that ripped through the house and made Bakura spill some vodka. "OI, MICHELLE! GET DOWN HERE."

The sounds of distant grumbling and what sounded like something being slammed loudly came from upstairs, soon followed by stomping footsteps. She whirled into the room like a hurricane, cheap perfume making Bakura cringe and bleached blonde hair swaying behind her.

"What?" She snapped, clearly unaware they had visitors, or uncaring.

"We've got visitors." Ryou's dad's voice was warning and low, and the woman nodded quickly, turning to face them and putting on a large, false smile.

Ryou knew better than to judge a person on their first appearance so decided to remain polite as usual and treat her as he would anyone else. Bakura however did not have such gentlemanly thoughts, and thought she looked like a crack whore, something he decided not to mention, as even he had some common sense.

"This is Ryou, and his house-mate Bakura."

"Mm-hmm, mm-hmm." The woman nodded, clearly the name meant nothing to her as she turned to Ryou's dad for clarification, false eyelashes wiggling in a vain attempt to escape her heavily made up eyes.

He sighed, draining his vodka in one gulp and rolling his eyes, "Ryou's my son."

She clapped chipped red nails over her matching lipsticked mouth, which was open in a surprised 'O'.

"Oh my goodness, it's so nice to meet you honey! I've heard so much about you!" She trilled, voice just as hoarse as his fathers as she gripped his hand and shook it enthusiastically. "And his house-mate, Makunga was it?"

"Bakura." He replied icily, wondering how the hell she'd managed to hear his name so badly wrong but accepting her hand anyway, noticing the ring on it with a sinking feeling in his chest.

"Oh, sorry! You must be visiting from China then!"

"Japan." Bakura corrected, eyes scanning the hand that held the matching vodka glass, focusing on something that made him drain the remainder of his glass and pray it would be enough to get him through what was to come.

"Come here you idiot. I told her it was Japan." Ryou's dad informed them as he pulled the woman across the room to sit on the sofa next to him, arm resting around her shoulders only confirming Bakura's suspicions. Nobody was going to say it, he'd realized that by now, and Ryou either hadn't realized, or was panicking too much to believe it.

"How long have you two been together?" He felt a whoosh of air from his side as Ryou's head shot up and cringed internally as he realized with horror that Ryou hadn't noticed at all.

"Just over six months now I think?" It was obvious the question had taken Ryou's father by surprise and he had no idea what the answer was.

"Mm, something like that. It was a bit of a whirlwind, we'd only known each other for about a week before we decided to get married! Then a week later, there was a ring on my finger." Michelle informed them cheerily, clearly unaware this was the first Ryou had heard of it as she continued to chatter, clearly as empty-headed as she looked.

"Y-You're married?" Ryou managed to speak up, hands in his lap totally still as he clocked the matching rings on their left hands and the arm that was wound around the false-tanned neck. "When?"

The couple shared a blank look, both faces contorting into clear doubt. "April... I think?"

Bakura could have laughed at Michelle's answer, or he would have done if he hadn't felt like throwing up instead. Wasn't your wedding meant to be the most important day of your life? She couldn't even remember the exact month, let alone the date, which Bakura was certain was expected of the bride.

"Congratulations." Ryou's voice was monotone and empty of emotion and Bakura sent him a concerned look, the blank eyes that met him were alarming to say the least.

"Thanks hun!" Bakura's impression of Michelle seemed to be lowering with every word that left her stained teeth.

"We would have invited you, of course. But I know how busy you've been with school." His dad tried to make an excuse, and it expectedly, didn't really work. Even Bakura knew it couldn't have taken too much effort just to have written to Ryou telling him about the wedding, even a text would have been better than what he had got, nothing.

"How is school? It must be very different in China."

"Japan." Bakura growled, grip on the glass tightening as he finished his cigarette and immediately lit another.

"That's what I said."

"Um, it's good. I start college soon."

"Which one?" His father’s response was instant, his tone immediately becoming stern and parental for the first time since they'd arrived. As if he'd even know any of the colleges in the area and how good they were.

"Um, it's an online college actually. I'll be doing the courses from home." Ryou's voice had warmed slightly as they got into more familiar territory, though Bakura could still feel the slight shaking of his frame where their arms were pressed together. This was the first Bakura had heard of this, but decided now was not the time to bring that up or ask why he hadn't told him already.

"What courses?"

"Um, psychology, sociology, history and art." The course choices came as no surprise to Bakura, who knew Ryou had always had an interest in how people's minds worked, and often watched documentaries on the subject. The art however, was mildly unexpected.

"Art?" His father spat, disapproval dripping from his voice as he scoffed. "What are you going to do with art? Why don't you do some real subjects? Pissing about with a paintbrush isn't going to get you anywhere."

Ryou sunk down in his seat at his father’s cruel words, as if trying to disappear from sight. Bakura, meanwhile, was bristling with annoyance, he hadn't brought Ryou here to be belittled by the father who had abandoned him for years and gotten married behind his back.

"Your son happens to be very fucking good at art, and I don't see how you have any right to say what he does. If you wanted a say you shouldn't have abandoned him in Japan like a coward."

The room was completely silent, Michelle's eyes wide with surprise as she looked between Bakura and her husband. Her nervous, high pitched laugh broke it unpleasantly a second later. "Ryou can study art if he wants to, surely sweetie?" This was directed at her husband, who looked ready to kill Bakura, and probably would have done had there been no witnesses.

"I suppose. But I won't support you forever. You've been sponging off me far too long already! It's about time you look after yourself. You're eighteen right?"

"He's sixteen." Bakura corrected, any patience he may have had for Ryou's sake drifting away, he might have no family himself, but he knew it was fucked up to not know the ages of your children. He could feel the waves of sadness from Ryou's mind link, as much as he tried to hide them, Bakura could see straight through him, moving his fingers slightly to curl round Ryou's between their legs, hopefully out of sight of anyone else.

"Well... be that as it may," Ryou's dad cleared his throat, puffing his chest out importantly and fixing Bakura with a glare that didn't phase him. "What about you? Surely you're old enough to work."

"I told you Dad, he paid for the flights here." How Ryou could call this monster his father, Bakura didn't know, but he did know Ryou was standing up for him, squeezing fingers that he could feel shaking, though whether in anger or sadness was uncertain.

"Then I'm sure he can manage half of what I give you."

Ryou audibly gasped, while his dad wasn't exactly generous with the upkeep money he sent, being suddenly asked to provide half of it was near impossible.

"Dad, he can't just-"

"I don't recall ever giving you permission to get a house-mate in the first place. You're lucky I don't make you throw him out."

Ryou quieted at this, knowing it was useless to argue, he couldn't win and he'd given up on trying to a while ago. In all truth he wanted to cry, but now wasn't exactly the time, and besides, he'd like to hold onto what meager amounts of pride he had left.

"How do you know my son anyway? Are you a friend from school? Where are your parents?"

Bakura bit the inside of his cheek, trying to calm himself down for Ryou's sake, he had a feeling that despite their terrible relationship, Ryou might be angry if he punched his dad.

"They're dead. And yes, we were in the same form." His tone was surprisingly calm for someone who had just announced his parents were dead, and Michelle looked visibly concerned. Maybe she wasn't as bad as he'd thought, stupid and ignorant, but kinder than his father.

"Hm. Don't you have any other relatives?"

"Hun...” Michelle's gaze was soft as she stared at the white haired boys on their sofa, clearly aware her husband was prying more than was polite.

"They're all dead too." Bakura responded, smirking as Ryou's father looked away in annoyance.

"How convenient."

"Isn't it just." Bakura replied icily, both men exchanging glares across the room.

Michelle and Ryou shared an understanding look, both seemingly knowing what it was like having to deal with such stubborn men.

"Hun, didn't you have that appointment soon?" It was painfully obvious she was making an excuse to get rid of them, but Ryou had no complaints, he was all too ready to go.

"What?" His father looked confused for a moment, before finally cottoning on and nodding, making the entire thing even more obvious than it already had been.

"Yeah, we better get going too." Ryou smiled, though it wobbled slightly on his face as he stood, Bakura quickly following suit.

* * *

 They said an awkward goodbye to Ryou's father, who remained sitting in the chair, waving absently as he poured himself another drink, barely hearing his son's promise to phone when he got home. It made Bakura want to crush the glass into his hand and hear his screams of pain, but he reminded himself once more that doing so would just upset Ryou. It was Michelle who showed them to the door, shutting it behind them and standing in the icy air, pulling her thin cardigan around her tighter.

"I'm sorry about that, he's not in the best mood." She looked genuinely sorry, and Bakura felt himself warm to her as Ryou relaxed, tensed shoulders dropping downwards.

"I would never have guessed."

Whether she picked up on his sarcasm or not, Bakura would never know, because the next thing he knew she had leaned forwards, cheap drugstore perfume filling his nostrils.

"Hey, not to be nosy or anything, but are you two together..?"

Ryou blinked, rosy blush on his cheeks not just the fault of the winter breeze that whipped by them. "Um...”

"Don't worry, I'm not stupid enough to tell your father." She smiled, immediately realizing what he was worried about.

"Kinda." Bakura replied, deciding that was the most decisive he could be about their relationship at the moment, seeing as they had yet to define it themselves.

"Ah." She tapped the side of her nose knowingly, Bakura noticing for the first time the small gem that pierced the unnaturally orange skin. "Anyway, it was really nice to meet both of you. Will you visit again?"

The boys exchanged a glance, Bakura's spelling out clear disinterest in ever doing so again, while Ryou's was less set.

"Maybe, if we can afford it." Ryou answered.

"Well I hope you do, you better get going before you catch your deaths!" She stepped back into the warmth of the house, smiling down at them as they stepped back onto the pavement. "I'll speak to you on the phone Ryou."

"Mm." His tone had improved somewhat since they had left the house, waving to her before she shut the door behind her.

It was the sound of raised voices and a glass smashing that broke Ryou's emotionless resolve, and he broke into tears right there on the pavement outside the house of his only remaining family, where he had just been cast aside.

* * *

 The walk back to the hotel was tense, Ryou was silent, mouth hidden by his scarf and hands tucked into his pockets, eyes wet even as he tried to dry them constantly. He didn't even complain as Bakura smoked cigarette after cigarette. Bakura tried to break the silence by making Ryou laugh, but it didn't really work, and he eventually fell silent.

"You're a better liar than I thought." No answer as they waited to cross, red man shining at them from the pole.

"And here I was, thinking your dad had quit drinking." A wince as they passed a large fountain, water frozen and immobile under the elaborate carvings. That one had been a dumb thing to say, even the Thief knew that.

"So, they were British good manners were they?" This earned him a glare and he realized maybe he should shut up, remaining silent for the rest of the walk and smiling apologetically at the receptionist as Ryou practically barked at her for their keys before storming off.

Bakura decided Ryou might need some alone time, so smiled at the uncomfortable receptionist once more and left the building to stand alone in the bizarre smoking shelter outside, finishing off the pack and making a note to ask Ryou where one bought cigarettes in this country.

* * *

 

It had been a good ten minutes by the time Bakura pushed open their hotel door, noticing Ryou's outdoor clothes dumped on the floor, a bad sign for certain.

"Ry?" He asked cautiously, picking up the coat and scarf and hanging them up to dry before hanging his leather jacket next to them on the hooks. "You okay?"

Now that was a foolish question, of course Ryou wasn't okay, he had flown halfway across the world to see his practically estranged father, only to find he wasn't as sober as he claimed to be, had gotten married behind his back and was generally an arsehole. Even Bakura imagined he'd be upset in that situation, and it took a lot to upset the Thief.

He was sat, curled up in the middle of the bed, back resting against the headboard and knees tucked under his chin. His cheeks were wet and his eyes were rimmed with red, he'd obviously been crying nearly the whole time Bakura had been outside.

"Ry.." His voice softened as he approached the bed, "you shouldn't let that asshole upset you."

The amber eyes lifted to meet his crimson, swimming with tears and puffy looking. Bakura sighed, sliding onto the bed and sitting next to Ryou, legs spread out in front of him, almost the opposite of his look-alike, who was keeping his limbs as close to his body as possible.

"Listen, Ry." Bakura steeled himself, fingers twitching as he reached for his cigarette packet, before remembering he couldn't smoke in here and he was out anyway. "I'm sorry, it was a stupid idea. We shouldn't have gone to see him. This entire trip was a dumb fucking idea."

"S'not your fault." Ryou sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve and grimacing at the slimy trail that remained, making a mental note not to wear this jumper again until he could wash it. "You didn't know he'd be like that."

"Michelle was nice though, right?" Bakura continued, having admitted his first impression of the woman had been wrong, and trying to find any positives from the visit to cheer Ryou up with.

"Yeah, she was nice." Tears spilled down Ryou's pale cheeks again and Bakura began to wonder if maybe he was making it worse. "I just wish he'd told me. I didn't think... after Mum...”

A hiccupy sob escaped the younger boy and he buried his head back into his knees, the visit having brought up some painful memories he thought he was over.

"Ry- I, um...” Bakura was terrible at this emotional stuff, tears had always panicked him, even years ago when he was a child. He just wanted them to stop, to feel better and to get him out of the uncomfortable situation, it made his chest hurt, seeing Ryou cry. "Don't cry."

"What- else... am I," he paused to hiccup, words thick with hysteria and throat wet. "Su-h-supposed to do?"

"We could get drunk." It was the first thing to pop into Bakura's head, and for some bizarre reason, he'd said it instantly. Images of what had happened the last time Ryou was drunk flashed through his head and he slammed the mind-link firmly shut.

A sound like a choked laugh came from beside him and he turned to see Ryou smiling disbelievingly through his tears. "You're serious?"

The Thief squirmed, before shrugging casually, he'd already had a significant amount of vodka, why not carry on and get so drunk he couldn't see? "Yeah."

There was a pause, then, "Okay."

"What?"

"I said okay. I'll ask at reception where the nearest off license is. You need more cigarettes anyway, right?" Ryou explained, reaching for the box of tissues on the bedside table and mopping himself up as best he could. Turning a watery smile onto Bakura. "I doubt they'll try asking you for ID."

The Thief laughed at that, imagining some spotty faced teenager quivering under his glare as he demanded they serve him. "Nah, I'd scare them too much for that."

Ryou made a scoffing noise, heading to the bathroom where Bakura heard running water, emerging a second later, having seemingly washed his face. His eyes were still a little red as he put on his coat and scarf, seemingly surprised Bakura had gone to the effort of hanging them up. Bakura followed suit a second later, pulling on his leather jacket and fingerless gloves, hobo gloves, as Ryou called them.

"You feel a bit better now?" He asked as Ryou unlocked the door, sliding behind him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

A shaky breath left his shorter companion, "yeah, let's go get drunk."

Bakura grinned, planting a quick kiss to the top of Ryou's head. "To the... off licence."

"You have no idea what that is do you?" Ryou asked, shrewd as always.

"Nope." Bakura replied cheerily, strolling out of the hotel room, sound of Ryou's shaky laughter following him as he jogged to catch up.

* * *

 

An off licence turned out to be distinctly less exciting than Bakura had hoped, it was essentially just a corner shop, selling magazines, sweets, cigarettes and alcohol. A rather bizarre mixture, but Bakura figured that was just the way the English did things. Ryou had informed him he'd wait round the corner, and had requested some snacks to eat when they got back as well as non-specified alcohol. Having no idea what half the products on the shelves were, he grabbed a couple large bags of crisps, about five share size bags of sweets, a bar of dairy milk chocolate and a bottle of cola, figuring Ryou would probably be better to dilute his vodka. Dumping that all on the counter in front of the bored looking teenager he'd expected, he also grabbed two six packs of beer, a brand he didn't recognize.

"Anything else?" The boy asked, barely looking up as he scanned the goods and placed them in plain blue carrier bags.

"40 Richmond superking," may as well stock up, "and... that vodka."

"Have you got any proof of you age?" The teenager asked, after getting the things he'd asked for, Bakura noted. He was half tempted to grab the stuff and run, but didn't think Ryou would be at all impressed.

"No." Bakura replied bluntly, and truthfully, though now he thought about it, his, admittedly fake, passport was back in their hotel room.

"Then I'm sorry Sir but-" The youth finally looked up, coming face to face with Bakura's darkest glare and gulping audibly.

"Is there a problem?" He asked silkily, voice just hinting at a silent threat.

"N-no, Sir," Bakura smirked as the cashiers voice broke. "I think you look over 18, but, um, next time please try to bring some ID."

Bakura just smiled smugly, handing over some notes and being handed most of them back, not understanding British currency at all, before leaving the shop and the terrified worker behind him.

* * *

 

He found Ryou stood around the corner, looking distinctly suspicious to anyone passing by despite his obvious attempts to look nonchalant.

"I come bearing booze." He remarked as he approached, bags in his hand clanking and rustling as he lifted them. "And enough candy to rot your teeth."

Ryou didn't reply, just took Bakura's hand in his own and practically dragged him back to the hotel, stalking past the wary looking receptionist and up the stairs to their room, locking the door firmly behind them and helping himself to the vodka, dumping himself in the middle of the floor and taking a large gulp.

"Maybe you should slow down Ry..." Bakura suggested.

"Shut up." Ryou all but hissed, lifting the bottle once more and taking a large mouthful.

Bakura's last thought before he resigned himself to whatever tonight would bring, was that maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at- motorcycle-chan.tumblr.com  
> Or DMMd side blog- minky-way.tumblr.com


	19. Chapter 19

Ryou was, to put it simply, hammered. He had single-handedly downed half of the vodka before Bakura had even noticed and had subsequently collapsed rather heavily on his way to the bathroom to, presumably, be sick. The Thief could do nothing but lift Ryou onto the bed, mildly surprised at how easy it was to lift his completely boneless form, despite it being a dead weight in his arms. He sighed in exasperation, both with himself and Ryou as he pulled off his jeans and t-shirt, placing an empty bin beside the bed in case of midnight vomiting, and pulled the covers up around the paralytic boy.

"This wasn't my best idea, huh, Ry?" He addressed his Hikari softly, not sure if the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach was guilt or something else entirely, carding a hand through wind messy hair and regarding the troubled expression on Ryou's face even as he slept deeply. "Your dad sure is a piece of work though. That fucking bastard...”

He knew he was essentially talking to himself at this point, but somehow expressing his anger and frustration at how the afternoon had panned out made him feel better, calmer almost. He never wanted to see the hurt look in Ryou's eyes again as his own father, his flesh and blood treated him so poorly, like a stray dog who had crawled back home instead of a young boy who just wanted his father’s love. Bakura's hand tightened in his jeans and he stared at it as the already pale knuckles turned whiter, breath coming in shaky gulps as he tried to reign in his temper. Destroying the hotel room wouldn't help anyone, and going after Ryou's father, extremely tempting though it was, would definitely destroy any chance of the father and son ever reuniting successfully. "You don't need him, Ry." His voice was low and soft, as if he was comforting a small animal or reassuring a child, hand stroking a warm cheek, alcohol flush evident in his rosy face and flushed neck. "You don't need anyone."

You only need me, he added silently. Bakura had lost everybody in his life too, he'd never had a chance to reunite with his loved ones, they had been torn away from his as cruelly as Ryou's own mother and sister had been. Films made it look like such painful losses made the remaining family cling together, trying to hold onto and protect what they had left. But life wasn't like the films, and Ryou's father had descended into a state of deep depression, hating Ryou and the memories he carried. Hated his white hair and brown eyes, so like those of this mother and sister, reminding him every time he saw his son of what he had lost. Ryou blamed himself for it, Bakura knew that much, guilt seeping into the mindlink as he slept, resurfacing at strange times to make his throat tight and his hand tremble. He thought he had been a bad son, and once, just once, had wished the crash had killed him instead of his mother and sister, because his father had treasured them more, and he wanted his father to be happy. Bakura had heard that stray thought, slipping between the mind links as Ryou cowered into the dark corner of the dining room, blood already trickling down his face from where the Thief's nails had caught his cheek as he knocked him down. He had scoffed, leaning down to drag Ryou up by his hair, forcing him to meet his own crimson eyes with dead brown.

"You wish you'd died instead? How noble of little Ryou," he had mocked, tone cruel and words spat like knives into the already fragile mind. "You know what? I wish you'd died too."

He felt like being sick, the memory was so fresh in his mind, as were the injuries that came after, the thin, neat cuts on his arms, disguised to look like he had done them himself. The scars he still bore on his slim arms, probably never to fade fully, drawing sympathy and pity in equal measure, making friends exchange concerned looks and discuss him in lowered voices. The marks that made them keep their distance, watch their words and do their best not to upset him, the marks that made them avoid him, kind words eventually becoming cloying and too fake in their mouths until they stopped altogether and Ryou was truly alone.

"I'll make this right." Bakura's face was set, he was more determined than he had been in years, he would make it right, he would fix his mistakes and change himself, for Ryou, only for Ryou, who had saved his life when anyone else would have left him to die. For Ryou, who had forgiven what could not be forgotten, memories that were etched onto his skin forever, who had saved him twice, once in the alley, and again, in the yard covered in snow and positive that this was the end. For Ryou, who was so impossibly strong that it made Bakura feel weak just to look at him, who continued to smile and show kindness despite the shitty hand that life had dealt him. For Ryou, who refused to give up.

"I'll make it right."

* * *

 

Maps, Bakura soon realized, were incredibly difficult to read, he was almost certain he was holding it upside down, and the various wiggly lines did nothing to help him pinpoint his desired destination. With a scowl that made a passerby cringe and cross over to avoid him, he scrunched in up and shoved it into his pocket, breath fogging up in the icy cold air, glaring at the sky and hoping it wouldn't snow. He wasn't used to the cold at all, Ancient Egypt having been warm year round, only becoming cold at night, where he always had a fire and his thick cloak to keep him warm.

London was fucking massive, the streets were packed with tourists and locals alike and the roads were jammed with cars, buses and more bicycles than he'd ever seen in his life. The zebra crossings were huge and almost always occupied, traffic stopping and starting constantly to allow people to cross.

He glanced again at the arranged location on his phone screen, an abandoned train station in a place called Hackney, wherever the fuck that was. Eventually he ran out of cigarettes, cursing himself for leaving the unopened packet back in the hotel room, and instead making a detour into another off-licence to buy more and ask where Hackney was, and how long it would take him to get there.

After a rather confusing discussion with the most cockney man he had ever had the displeasure of meeting, he had been given an answer. It would take almost two hours on foot, and he'd been recommended either to get a taxi, which would apparently be 'daylight robbery,' a term Bakura found rather fitting, or to take the tube. Once he'd explained what the tube was and explained it would still take up to 45 minutes, muttering something about 'bloody foreigners', Bakura had paid for his cigarettes and left with a grunt of thanks, smirking as he stepped out of the door and fingered the 40 cigarettes he'd managed to sneak into his pocket when the storekeeper went to find a map and left the shop empty. The note he'd been written was stashed in his pocket, informing him to head to the Embankment tube station on the circle line and to get out at Hackney Central, an imaginative name if ever he'd heard one. He'd been reluctant to give the man a more specific address, so had been told with an almost suspicious smile that he might have a way to walk when he arrived, he had replied with an uncaring shrug.

* * *

 

The tube station, when he arrived minutes later, was loud, busy and confusing. Having literally no idea what he was doing, he walked up to a bored looking woman behind a glass screen who was busy filing her nails and popping her gum obnoxiously.

"Where to?" She monotoned, clearly bored and gazing at his unusual experience nosily, presumably linking him being foreign and being stupid somewhere in her peanut sized brain and speaking slowly and condescendingly.

"Hackney Central."

"Return?"

"Yeah."

She typed on her computer, nails clacking against the keys, holding her hand out for money which he handed over, two notes, one brown and one blue. She handed back his change messily, almost missing his hand and giving him his ticket.

"Scan that in the barriers over there, next one should be here in three minutes."

With that vague advice, she turned back to her nail file, seemingly oblivious to everything else now as he scowled and turned away to find the 'barrier' she had referred to. Despite his confidence in most things, Bakura had to admit he was out of his depth, lingering near the silver barriers in utter confusion.

"First time on the tube?" A voice spoke up from his side, and he looked up, meeting the smiling face of a young woman, a child hanging onto her side like a monkey and blinking at him with green eyes.

"Um, yeah." He answered, immediately feeling embarrassed, he was such an obvious tourist, from his heavily accented English to his clear ignorance of how anything worked.

"Give me your ticket and stand here." She smiled gently, hand held out for the paper, which Bakura handed over unthinkingly, aware later he'd become much less suspicious than he used to be. "You just slide your ticket in there, and walk through and it'll be on the other side."

Bakura blinked, but followed her instructions, pushing the metal bar out of the way with his body and passing through the barrier, retrieving his ticket on the other side, the woman followed seconds later.

"We're on the same train, I could show you the platform if you like?"

"Thanks." He managed to answer, smile straining his face. Ryou would fare so much better in this situation, he was good with people, was polite and came across as a nice boy. Bakura just felt like an idiot as he trawled after the woman and her child, who wouldn't stop staring at him.

"Oh look! It's here already." The woman smiled, though she seemed to smile constantly, in contrast with the other people who were on the train, who stared blankly ahead with expressionless faces, some with newspapers and others with headphones firmly over their ears, blocking out their fellow humans as efficiently as possible.

The woman and her son got off at the next stop, telling him to listen out for the announcement on the tannoy so he wouldn't miss his stop, and telling him to have a nice day. His thank you came out sincere enough and her eyes glittered, laughing softly as her son waved goodbye over her shoulder and ruffling his hair.

People were strange, Bakura decided, sinking into a seat beside one of the doors and trying not to let the rocking of the train make him too queasy.

* * *

 

It was grimy, dark and depressing. The tube station he disembarked at looked like something from a horror movie, lights flickering in wire cages and tiles chipped and broken on the chewing-gum spattered floor. The escalators were out of order and even the sign saying so looked old and worn, as if they'd been stationary for weeks without anyone bothering to fix them. Climbing the stairs quickly, two at a time he soon emerged into bright winter light, cold and unwelcoming as he stepped out of the shadows and onto the street beyond, which didn't exactly fill him with inspiration.

It wasn't terrible, not by any accounts, but either the tube station was located in a rougher area, or the entire borough of London was this... rundown. The streets were filled with small, grimy looking shops for anything imaginable, mainly for takeaways with pictures of greasy food and bargain deals plastered on their dirty windows. There were a couple of hairdressers, trying to be fancy with ornate chairs and flock wallpapers, but still managing to look shabby, graffiti on their doors and bleached blonde customers painted lips wagging, no doubt gossiping. 

There was also an abundance of tanning shops, something that seemed to be abnormally popular in London, and England as a whole, if Ryou was to be believed. But Bakura barely noticed this, glancing for the landmarks Mariku had sent him and turning left immediately down a somehow even more decrepit street which seemed to be a single block of high-rise flats. They looked scummy, cracked or boarded up windows and graffiti covering the dirty brick walls, chipped and worn down with age and the harsh weather.

Teenagers loitered outside in tracksuits, girls in too much makeup playing on their phones and chain smoking, some pushing prams despite looking like children themselves, the boys meanwhile messed around on skateboards they didn't know how to use properly, jeans in serious need of a belt flashing stripes of underwear in various hideous colors. None of them did more than shoot Bakura looks as he passed by, smoking himself and glancing around warily, knowing Mariku all too well to suspect he wouldn't have planned some kind of surveillance or a surprise attack.

* * *

 

He walked past similar scenes for about ten minutes, passing a gloomy looking park with run-down equipment and filled with yet more teenage mothers with prams, smoking and yelling at their absurdly named children to behave. Pausing beside a broken gate that served as an entrance, Bakura pulled his phone out of his pocket, checking the directions once more and glancing at the last street he needed to go down before walking straight on to more industrial areas of the borough. He sighed, rubbing his temple absently and wondering if Ryou was okay, he knew it was stupid to have left him in that state, but he had been fast asleep and he needed to scout the area before he did the drop off. He imagined Ryou would consider being left alone the lesser evil to having to bandage him up, or worse send his body home in a wooden box. A sudden shout from behind him, from a girl with a particularly vivid outfit in shades of neon pink and leopard print, made him turn round, eyes narrowed automatically.

"Crystal! Stop fucking doing that, I've told you!" The child in question was clinging to its mothers leg, seemingly crying, which was understandable given the angry tone it was spoken to in. None of the other people nearby so much as raised an eyebrow even as the woman grabbed the child and harshly dragged her from the park, swearing as she went, despite the fact her daughter couldn't be more than five. Bakura was hardly a saint, nor would he say he particularly liked children, but it still made his eyebrows furrow to see one treated so badly, and by its own mother no less. People should realize how lucky they were to have families, because maybe one day they would no longer have that luxury, like him and Ryou.

Scowling to himself about how sentimental he had become, his gaze dropped down, landing on a council sign warning users of the park to 'please use the bins provided,' but it was the blue graffiti over it that made a twinge of unease shoot through his stomach. A messily sprayed blue stick figure, running, and to its right, in block capitals in the same serene blue, 'RUN FOR YOUR LIFE.' He knew it didn't mean anything, it was just some kids stupid scribbling, but the whole area gave him a sense of paranoia that wriggled in his stomach and he turned his back on the park, the first green he had seen in a while.

The seemingly abandoned industrial area loomed before him, dilapidated warehouses surrounding him on all sides, leading down to more wild land where plants had grown through the cracks in the concrete. The burnt out wrecks of old cars and miscellaneous dumped rubbish thinned out and suddenly the buildings ended, the train station visible in the distance, no more than ten minutes away. Everything had gone swimmingly so far, and it made the Thief suspicious, pausing to light a cigarette, using it as an excuse to carefully scour his surroundings with sharp eyes. Nothing more than birds and what looked like a rabbit could be seen, and he reluctantly continued on, wondering why the hell he'd booked a hotel so far away from the drop off point.

He supposed Ryou had a lot to do with it, his Dad's house was located in a nice area, as were all the touristy things Bakura had guessed he'd want to do, so it had made sense to get a hotel there. He couldn't help but chuckle slightly as he imagined how Ryou would have reacted to a hotel in the classy area that was Hackney. It wouldn't seem like much of a holiday if they spent the entire time avoiding dog muck on the pavement and the stares of delinquent teenagers who were probably skipping school to get stoned or increase the already high teenage pregnancy rate.

* * *

 

When he reached the abandoned station, he had to admit he was surprised by just how seemingly innocuous it was, there was nowhere an ambush could hide. The old station building was falling apart, paint flaking off in large chunks and unreadable graffiti littered its dirty bricks and smashed windows. The unused tracks stretched off into the distance, stopping just past the path Bakura now walked down, rusted iron railings on one side, the drop down to the lines was about four feet, but he dropped down easily, carefully stepping over the abandoned tracks to closer examine the building itself.

There was a small complex of three, two completely boarded up and windowless, a quick, but hard kick against the iron plates over the door showed nobody would be able to get in and hide in wait for him there. Good. The other building posed a slight problem, the door was missing and he could see inside through the hole, wooden support beams and toppled chairs with missing legs littered the rubble-strewn floor, once impressively tiled in green and white. Careful to leave no trace he’d been there, he stepped inside, glancing at the ceiling anxiously as a trickle of brick-dust fell to land on his shoulder. The roof was caving in and light could be seen through the gaps where nature had reclaimed the building, a tree grew in one corner and ivy and other weeds grew through the cracks in the brickwork and tiled floor.

This could be a potential place where people could hide for an ambush, but he left none-the-less, worries immediately assuaged as his movement caused a sudden crash as the doorway gave in, rotting wooden supports having finally given way. Once the dust had cleared and he had recovered himself from the shock of having nearly been buried alive, he assessed the damage with a pleased smirk. The door was now completely unusable, a heavy metal girder had fallen across it and the bricks were piled up behind it so firmly that even pushing with all his strength he only managed to dislodge a couple.

The windows, though still allowing access, were broken and shards of glass still remained on their frames. He could be far away from the buildings and into heavily populated streets before they even managed to clamber out. There was a long, high wall, too high even for him to climb, to the other side of the tracks, but there were no holes where people could appear. Hiding on the roofs of the buildings was also a no go, not only would it mean having to jump at least fifteen feet, if not twenty, but the chance of the person plummeting through the tiles and into the building below was far too high for even the stupidest person to try it. All in all, it looked legitimate, and Bakura was sure that the deal would go down smoothly. Taking one last glance around for cameras or anything else that looked suspicious, he turned and walked away, leather jacket tight around him as he headed back to the hotel, and Ryou.

* * *

 

"Oh God, I think I'm dying."

"It's just a hangover, Ry, you'll be fine." Bakura's voice was loud in the otherwise silent room and the head of white hair disappeared under the duvet, pained whine making the Thief hold in a suppressed chuckle.

"This is horrible, how do you do this all the time?" He was largely muffled now by the covers flung messily over him, head buried under the pillow to block out both the light and Bakura's irritatingly loud voice.

As entertaining as Ryou's self-inflicted pain was, the Thief knew all too well the injuries he was currently nursing. The pounding head that stabbed with pain if someone spoke too loudly and ached if you dared to move it even slowly, the eyes that were crusted with gunk and were so sensitive that the sun bored into them and made your headache worse. The stomach pain would be there too, but that was more of a queasy feeling than an actual conscious injury, gurgling and complaining about everything you put into it, food or liquid. Of course there'd be added pain for Ryou, as he'd collapsed to the ground quite heavily, bruises already forming on the one leg sticking out of his blanket cocoon.

He'd been sick too, that meant his teeth would feel furry and his mouth would taste foul, being sick didn't even help lessen the churning stomach either, and by the way Ryou was looking, Bakura wouldn't be surprised if he was sick again sometime soon. It was a very particular kind of pain, the hangover, and Bakura knew the only proven cure for it, sleep, and lots of it.

With a sigh that was a mixture of exasperated and fond, he crossed the room, shutting the curtains and blocking out most of the cold winter light, messy white head popping out of the covers a minute later to regard the room blearily, groaning softly as his head span. Aware of eyes still on him, Bakura filled a glass with water, fetched as many drugs as was safe from the drawer they'd been placed in, and put them on the bedside table next to his foolish Hikari. The cold water would hit Ryou's already temperamental stomach hard, and Bakura was almost hoping it would prompt the vomiting he knew was coming, so he at least had a chance of catching it in the already used bin.

"You were sick, huh?" He asked, nudging the bin cautiously with his toe and cringing as the reddish, foul smelling liquid slopped unpleasantly

"Twice. Didn't you hear me?" Ryou's voice was weak and exhausted, small groans leaving his mouth as he squirmed into a sitting position, knees hugged up to his chest.

Shit. Ryou didn't know Bakura had left, couldn't ever know where he had gone, not if he wanted a chance of having somewhere to live back in Japan anyway. "I might have been asleep."

Ryou's already displeased face scrunched up at this, slow working brain trying to process what was wrong with what the Thief had just said. "But you're a really light sleeper...”

That was true, his days in the desert as an outcast and a wanted criminal had meant he was extremely cautious, even during sleep. Even now he slept with a knife under his pillow, hand curled around the handle and had the nasty habit of slashing at whoever disturbed his sleep, unconsciously defending himself and his long-lost riches.

"I might have been having a cigarette then. I went out a couple times." Bakura shrugged, thinking that surely this nonchalant answer would be satisfactory enough to not need further comment. However, as Ryou's face changed, he realized he may have been wrong.

"You went out, and left me? In the state I was in?" Oh Ra, Bakura was squirming now under Ryou's disbelieving, and even worse, disappointed stare. "What if I'd choked on my vomit?"

Ew, that was not an imagine Bakura ever wanted, of all the ways to die, that was the least dignified way he could think of, not to mention gross. "I imagine you would have died." He replied coolly, smirking as Ryou's usually soft brown eyes hardened into a glare and he reached for his water with a shaking hand.

"Are you incapable of taking anything seriously?" He scolded, which Bakura had to admit, was like being told off by a disheveled puppy, not even slightly effective. He drank the water, all the water, in large gulps, face contorting the second he finished and it hit his empty stomach, making his groan long and loud, a truly self-pitying sound.

Bakura was across the room and holding the bin before Ryou's body even began to gag, holding it in front of his mouth and trying to ignore the unpleasant noise of liquid hitting liquid and the absolutely disgusting stench that only ever came from alcohol vomit. His small body shook as it tried to purge all of the toxic liquid he'd consumed hours before, running out all too soon and forcing him to choke up acidic green bile, gasping and shaking as it ran sloppily over his lips. His head was practically in the bin by now, forehead resting on the rim, Bakura's hand the only thing stopping his hair getting coated in the sickening mess. Even after he was done he stayed in the same position, managing to follow Bakura's instructions to hold the bin upright while he went to get toilet paper to clean him up with.

"Ry, come on, lift your head up." It wasn't a pretty sight, his eyes were puffy and watering, forehead scrunched up in pain and lips wet with tendrils of sick dribbling down his chin. He looked miserable, and even though it had been his own fault, it made Bakura's protective side kick in to see it. He gently wiped Ryou's face clean, drying his mouth and encouraging him to blow his nose, getting another thick pad of toilet roll to carefully dry his tired looking eyes. "You okay?"

"Mmm." The noise Ryou made wasn't entirely encouraging, more of a groan than a noise of agreement, but his slow, cautious nod and weak smile was enough to make Bakura smile back, pushing white hair out of Ryou's face and tucking it behind his ears, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Go back to sleep, you'll feel better when you wake up."

There was no chance of any disagreement, Bakura taking the bin, still avoiding looking at or smelling its contents for fear he'd void his own stomach, while Ryou settled back under the covers. He'd just finished cleaning the bin out, emptying it down the toilet and using the showerhead to blast the rest away, when a quiet call of his name made him start, having assumed Ryou would be asleep already.

"Yeah?” He asked, careful to keep his voice quiet as he stepped back into the dimly lit room, freshly cleaned bin placed beside the bed, accepting the hand offered to him.

“Stay with me?” Ryou’s voice asked weakly, and Bakura practically felt himself melt, agreeing immediately, peeling his t-shirt and jeans off and sliding into the space Ryou made for him.

“Always.” He whispered once he was sure his Hikari was asleep, wrapping his arms around him protectively and burying his nose in tangled white hair, saying a silent apology for having lied to him yet again. The drop off was in three days, and he was determined to make those days as perfect as possible, Ryou deserved cheering up after all, and if anything went wrong… well, Bakura didn’t even want to think about that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at- motorcycle-chan.tumblr.com  
> Or DMMd side blog- minky-way.tumblr.com
> 
> The graffiti I mention is real and can be found here- http://hackneylookout.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2008/10/img_0053.jpg  
> And the train station is here (bottom 2 images)- http://www.disused-stations.org.uk/h/hackney/


	20. Chapter 20

As promised, Bakura spent the next few days being a perfect holiday companion, as well as a slightly unwilling tourist. They rode the London eye, Ryou trying to ignore Bakura’s stupid comments about Millennium Items and coincidental dates and conspiracy theories as he pressed his face to the glass and took about a thousand pictures on the camera he’d revealed on their second day. Bakura meanwhile, was sat firmly on the wooden bench that sat right in the middle of the pod, fingers gripping tightly onto the edge and trying not to look down to the tiny buildings and river below. Steady flow of ‘Oh Ra it’s so high. How does this even work? Why is everyone so relaxed? What if it breaks? I don’t want to die like this...’ flowing through his mind as he fought the urge to close his eyes. He doubted even the Mountains he’d scaled in Egypt were this high, and at least he knew they were solid and the chance of them collapsing was pretty much nil. But this flimsy metal structure filled with overweight tourists? He had little to no trust in it.

“Kura?” A soft hand on his shoulder and concerned brown orbs broke his panicked thoughts and his head shot up in alarm, eyes finally opening to discover, much to his horror that they were right at the top. “Are you okay?”

Bakura nodded immediately, but refused to move from the safety of his perch, miles above the city and a horrifying fall from sudden death. “Say, Ry, how tall did you say this was?”

“135 meters.” He replied calmly, wondering why Bakura was suddenly listening now, he hadn’t seemed to care much on the way.

The Thief made a quiet sound not dissimilar to a whimper and Ryou’s brow furrowed, sitting down carefully beside his Yami and watching the view with wide, awe-struck eyes.

“Bakura?”

“Yes.” His voice was tense, knuckles white where they gripped the bench, eyes planted firmly on the obese tourist he was certain would send them tumbling to their deaths.

“You’re not scared of heights, are you?”

Now that was a dig at Bakura’s pride, who turned to stare at Ryou indignantly, annoyed to see the honest brown eyes not holding a hint of malice or mocking. “Of course not.”

“Oh.” It went silent for a moment, then the Pod stopped and a flash of sharp panic ran through the Mind Links, too strong for even Ryou to pretend to have not felt it. “It’s just, you didn’t like the flight either, I just figured, maybe you don’t like heights.”

“Why have we stopped?” Bakura demanded, ignoring Ryou and his annoyingly logical reasoning in favor of trying to discover just how much more time on this earth he might have.

“It stops at the top for five minutes so we can see the view better.” The white haired boy explained calmly, methodically and slowly peeling Bakura’s stiff fingers off the wooden bench to cover them with his own. He leaned in closer to Bakura, practically leaning on him as two kids ran past, giggling and laughing, seemingly unconcerned about how ridiculously high up they were. “It’s completely safe, nothing’s going to happen.”

“How do you know?”

The Hikari blinked at this, “well, I guess I don’t. But nothing’s ever happened before, what are the chances it would break today?”

“Knowing my luck, very high.” It was the day before the long awaited drop off, although Ryou obviously didn’t know that at 4am sharp, Bakura would be sliding carefully out of bed, grabbing his pre-prepared and hidden bundle and leaving the hotel to catch a train across London to complete a highly dangerous, not to mention illegal, drugs trade-off.

Ryou chuckled lightly at this, which Bakura found more than a little offensive, “you find our impending death funny?”

“No,” Ryou replied, small smile on his lips as he observed the view, the sky was dark and threatened either rain or snow, though Bakura was praying for neither, and the sun had long ago disappeared behind a cloud. “Just you trying to pretend you’re not scared.”

“I am not scared.” He growled, trying to act the fearless Thief he was, but the wheel beginning to rotate again made his hand tighten unconsciously on Ryou’s and the Hikari had the gall to snort derisively. “It’s just.. Unnatural.”

“I thought you used to climb mountains in Egypt?”

Bakura rolled his eyes exasperatedly, wondering just how to explain the difference between mountains and huge wheels made of steel and plastic. “Yes, but they’re different.”

The Thief was almost cute when he was sulky, his bottom lip stuck out in what was almost a pout, though he’d call it a scowl, and he tried to hide his face under a curtain of messy white hair, usually unsuccessfully. Despite his constant attempts to appear tough and unaffected at all times, the Thief did have weaknesses and fears, and it thrilled Ryou to be allowed to see Bakura so off guard. However, mild guilt did creep into Ryou’s mind as he realized just how terrifying that must be for Bakura, who never usually had any vulnerabilities, leaving him wondering how difficult it must have been for the Thief to open up to him as much as he had. Feeling a ball of warm, soppy feelings in his chest, Ryou blushed, leaning over to plant a kiss on the surprised Thief’s cheek before standing, fingers still intertwined.

“Come on, you have to at least look.”

“Nope, I’m fine right here.” Bakura replied, a touch too fast for it to sound natural or anything but afraid, but letting Ryou drag him over to the edge of the pod nonetheless. Bakura’s immediate instinct was to look down, which turned out to be a huge mistake. Having just passed the very top point of the wheel a few minutes ago, they were now horrifyingly high up above the city.

“We didn’t come up here to look at the ground Kura.” Ryou reminded patiently, waiting for Bakura’s hand to loosen its death grip on his own, which was starting to go numb with the sheer force the Thief was exerting upon it. “Look, isn’t it beautiful?”

The height was making Bakura feel dizzy and he half worried if he’d stumble and fall if he even tried to move, clinging onto Ryou like a lifeline as he swallowed thickly and managed to finally raise his head. “Well shit.” He remarked eloquently, being unable to say anything more as he took in the breathtaking sight that was London from above.

Ryou giggled from beside him, snorting slightly, something which always horrified him and amused the Thief, turning to look at him. Despite the view from all sides of them being exquisite, Bakura didn’t think he’d ever seen something quite as perfect as Ryou’s smile in all his thousands of years.

* * *

 

“Hey, you okay now?”

This was received with a scathing look before crimson eyes looked away pointedly, focusing on some point of the café wall and staring blankly. “You mean have I recovered from almost plummeting to my death?”

Ryou sighed, stirring his milkshake with the pink straw he’d been given, smiling almost fondly at the sulking boy who sat opposite him in the cozy establishment. “So dramatic, but yeah, that.”

“I guess.” The Thief shrugged, returning his attention to the black coffee in front of him, having insisted that milkshakes were for girls, a fact that he clearly didn’t believe as he constantly stole sips of Ryou’s as he pretended not to look.

“You can say if you don’t want to do something. You’re the one paying after all, if you didn’t want to go on it I wouldn’t have minded.”

Shit. Ryou’s honest amber eyes were staring at him and he was almost withering under their fond gaze, a gaze he most definitely didn’t deserve. Guilt was once again bubbling up in his stomach, fear building in his spine and creeping up his back like ice as he once again found himself wondering how Ryou would react if he found out this whole holiday was a façade. He could picture tears easily enough, those orbs overflowing with hurt and spilling down his pale skin to dampen his t-shirt. Anger would surely be there too,

Ryou was far more courageous now than he had ever been before, things would be thrown, words yelled and tiny fists would pummel Bakura’s chest with little effect. But it was the betrayal that would sting the Hikari the worst, the fact that these last months, happy months spent together, were all a lie, a cunning scheme, brilliantly acted and flawlessly executed. All for the sake of money, which the Thief already had plenty of, and was easily able to get more.

He almost wondered if it was worth it. Until he remembered Mariku’s parting words.

“But if you fail, if the job fails, he’s mine Thief.”

He would not, could not let that happen. He refused to lose Ryou, not then, and certainly not now, when they were closer than ever. Not now they were sat in a warm café, comfortable in each other’s silence and legs intertwined under the table like it was natural for them to be that way.

“Kura? What’s wrong?”

Bakura’s head snapped up, becoming aware with growing alarm that he had been gazing at Ryou for at least five minutes, small smile ever present on his face no doubt unnerving. “Nothing, just thinking. And it’s fine, you enjoyed it right?”

“Mm.” Ryou nodded in agreement, scooping up some pink milkshake with a dainty finger and placing it into his mouth, humming happily and unaware of Bakura’s eyes staring at his pink, full lips until he forced himself to look away.

“Then I don’t mind. But.. Maybe we can stay on the ground now?”

His laughter was unexpected, a soft tinkling like a bell that made Bakura’s chest feel lighter, the fear and apprehension of what was to come overtaken by Ryou’s contagious happiness. “Sure.”

They sipped their drinks in silence for a while, just basking in the comfortable atmosphere of the café and breathing in the smell of cinnamon, Ryou admiring the Christmas decorations.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” Bakura asked casually, he didn’t have any agenda for the holiday, except the hand over that night, it would be reassuring to have something to look forward to.

“Mm,” Ryou’s face scrunched up as he thought, small pink tongue licking milkshake off his lips, before he smiled apologetically and shrugged. “I don’t know really, isn’t there anything you want to do?”

“I had one idea,” he trailed off, continuing after a prompting nudge from Ryou. “Well, we could go shopping maybe? You’ve had the same clothes for a while.. Could get some new ones, my treat.”

“You’re being very generous with your money.” The Hikari remarked, voice slightly questioning as he drank his milkshake, one eyebrow raised.

“I don’t have anything else to spend it on.” Bakura shrugged, feeling uncomfortable under his suspicious gaze.

“If I didn’t know you better I’d think you were trying to buy my affection.” It still surprised Bakura how easily things like that left Ryou’s mouth, he’d almost rather be shot again than admit to wanting Ryou’s affection, as true as it may be. But it wasn’t his affection he’d be seeking, more that he’d somehow feel less guilty about tricking Ryou into this ‘holiday’ if he spent the entire time spoiling him rotten and buying him anything he desired. God he was fucked up.

But being the brilliant actor he liked to think he was, he merely grimaced and looked disgusted, “wouldn’t be worth the money.”

“Hey!” The whack on the head seemed so much more worth it when they left the café and Ryou pulled him into a side street to kiss him, taste of strawberries sweet on his lips.

“What was that for?” Bakura asked curiously, wondering when Ryou had become so confident and just when he’d started to feel guilt gnawing in his gut every time his Hikari touched him.

Ryou shrugged, cheeks red from either the cold or embarrassment, “Just saying thanks, I guess.”

Bakura let out a huff of laughter, wrapping an arm round Ryou’s shoulders and whispering in his ear, “You should thank me more often.”

* * *

 

“It’s getting late, maybe we should head back now?” Bakura suggested, feeling rather reluctant to return to the hotel, not just because of Ryou’s enraptured expression but also because of what he knew was to come.

It was obvious the Hikari didn’t want to return to the hotel any more than the Thief, but his cherry red nose and shivers in the icy winter air were a sign for both, that maybe their day should end now, before it was spoilt by frostbite. He nodded slowly, cold slowing his movements as he stood from the side of the frozen fountain they’d been sat on, watching the lights of the city and the people passing by. Neither even questioned it when Ryou’s hand slipped into the Thief’s own, chilled fingers engulfed by Bakura’s far larger digits. It had become so commonplace for them to do things like this, small signs of affection, that it was just second nature now, and neither ever thought to question just why they felt the need to be close, or what it meant for their relationship.

* * *

 

They didn’t have plans for the evening, so after ordering a take-away to the hotel and carrying it past the overly curious receptionist, they realizing they didn’t have any cutlery except the sporks from KFC, an incredibly greasy chicken eatery Ryou had dragged them to the day before. They made do, trying their best not to spill rice and noodles over the floor they sat cross-legged on, Bakura stealing Ryou’s prawns when he wasn’t looking and complaining that there were too many vegetables in the sauce.

Ryou made some vague comment about going to see Buckingham Palace when it was lit up, but one look out of the window at the freshly falling snow made Bakura reject that idea, pacing the room in boredom for a while, before turning to Ryou.

“What exactly do people do in hotels?”

Ryou blinked at the extremely vague question, lowering the magazine he had been flipping through and frowning over at the Thief, who seemed to be unaware there was a trail of red sauce down his chin. “Just what they do at home I guess, watch TV, sleep, take baths.”

Now it was Bakura’s turn to frown, looking to the flat screen ponderingly. “But that’s boring. I thought hotels were meant to be fun.”

Bakura’s lack of knowledge about modern things still surprised Ryou sometimes, like his inability to work digital microwaves and him sometimes forgetting that clothes didn’t go in the dishwasher. He supposed that the Thief’s naiveté came from the fact that his only knowledge of things like hotels and travel came from TV, which was hardly an accurate representation. “Well, in fancier hotels there are pools and spas and things, or there’ll be a bar and restaurant.”

Bakura raised an eyebrow, a bar just downstairs, sounded nice. “We should have a got a hotel like that.”

“You paid about £100 per night for this didn’t you?” Ryou asked, sounding curious as to just how expensive Bakura thought a luxury, four plus star hotel would cost in London of all places.

Bakura nodded, “Yeah, it’s fine though, right?”

“Yeah it’s lovely,” Ryou reassured, noticing the Thief’s crimson eyes regarding the room uncertainly. “But one with a spa and pool and stuff could have cost you double that, and this near to Christmas it could have been up to £500 a night.”

Bakura’s white eyebrows raised into his hairline, fucking hell, that was stupidly expensive for what was essentially a glorified bedsit, just without the kitchen. “You know, now I think about it, this hotel’s perfect.”

Ryou snorted quietly at this, standing up to dispose of the empty take-away cartons, leaning down to wipe the sauce, sweet and sour by the look of it, off Bakura’s chin. “You have no table manners.” He remarked neutrally, looking round the hotel room a minute later for something to do that was different to what they did most nights at home, before giving up and grabbing the remote control. “Wanna find a film?”

Bakura glanced over at him before taking the remote with a shrug and staring at it blankly, brow furrowed in confusion as he examined each button. Ryou didn’t say anything, just watched and calmly waited for the remote to be handed to him.

“Yeah so I can’t work this.”

“I’d never have guessed.” Ryou remarked noncommittally, not surprised when the remote thwacked him over the head a second later, though not hard enough to really hurt. “You’re hopeless with technology.”

“Our remote is simpler.” Was the reply as Bakura made himself comfortable on the bed, cracking open a beer and fluffing the pillows behind him.

“You mean you’re used to our remote.” The black device Ryou held in his hands really wasn’t that much different from theirs back in Japan, apart from the lack of kanji, which was replaced by English.

“Yeah whatever. Get over here before I steal all the pillows.” Ryou rolled his eyes as Bakura mocked him for a comment he’d made three mornings ago about the only thing he was good for stealing, which according to Ryou was pillows.

“Well you did steal them.”

“I didn’t steal them, I lay on them. They weren’t removed from the hotel, therefore not stolen.”

“I meant from me!” Ryou objected over the American TV show that had come on

“They don’t belong to you.” Bakura jousted right back, face furrowed in indignation as he sat up assertively, practically glaring holes through Ryou’s back as he seemingly ignored him, finding a movie channel. Ryou chose to be the bigger man, figuratively at least, and leave the argument there, padding across the plush carpeted floor with socked feet that were drowning under the hems of his too-long checked pajama bottoms.

“Budge up.” He commented as he reached the bed, only to find the Thief somehow managing to take up the whole thing by himself, nudging him in the shoulder lightly and waiting for him to shuffle over and make room for the both of them. After a second where Bakura just played with the drawstring of his hoodie, then began examining his nails for imaginary dirt, Ryou spoke up, irritation seeping into his voice. “Bakura.”

“Yes, Hikari mine?” His voice was aggravatingly calm and serene, almost as if he truly didn’t realize he was in the way. But even he wasn’t that obtuse.

“Move over.” Ryou’s tone was hard and didn’t leave any room for argument, but of course, Bakura being who he was, completely ignored the annoyed look glinting in Ryou’s eyes, smiling challengingly as he spoke.

“Make me.”

Ryou raised an eyebrow, “make you?” That was one of the most sexually tense phrases Ryou had ever heard used in anything other than a trashy made for TV movie, and his cheeks flushed lightly as he remembered the way those scenes usually finished.

“That’s what I said.” Bakura’s grin was knowing, he assumed Ryou wouldn’t so much as lay a hand on him to make him move, and would instead do something stupidly passive like sit on the floor or perch on the very corner of the bed. But Bakura hadn’t counted on how much Ryou had changed in the past few months, missing the ‘challenge accepted’ smirk that spread across his Hikari’s face just before a head of white hair obscured his vision.

The Thief’s first thought was that Ryou was a lot heavier than he looked, and the second that he may have broken a rib, if the sharp pain in his chest and the sudden breathlessness he felt meant anything. Ryou had, in essence, launched himself at his suddenly alarmed roommate, landing fully on his chest where he continued to lie even as the Thief coughed and wheezed under him.

“Goodness Bakura, you really should quit smoking, that cough sounds nasty.” Ryou grinned slyly, sensing bubbling animosity creep through the mind-link between them, he was about to turn to see if Bakura was actually okay, when he launched his counter-attack. Like Ryou’s assault, the Thief fulfilled his with just as much suddenness, going from still and silent and bursting into motion instantaneously with a low, menacing growl. His strong legs wrapped around Ryou’s, trapping him in place splayed messily across his chest as his arms came to encircle him too, imprisoning him in a fleshy cage.

To Bakura’s disappointment, Ryou didn’t so much as squeak, instead letting out a mildly exasperated sounding sigh as he wriggled to free the arm that was trapped underneath his body. “You know, if you had just moved we wouldn’t have had to resort to this.” He reasoned soundly, giving Bakura a look reminiscent of a mother scolding a naughty child for the millionth time.

The man entrapping him chuckled darkly, vibrations from his chest played out across Ryou’s own skin as they remained pressed together. “But that wouldn’t have been as much fun.”

“You think this is fun?”

“Sure do.” Bakura grinned, the simple gesture only irritating Ryou more as he scoffed and attempted to wriggle free, alarmed as Bakura’s arms stayed exactly where they were, wrapped around his middle. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Ryou’s face was a mixture of disbelief and a small amount of amusement, Bakura had done things like this before, but usually freed him after only a couple of minutes. But two could play at that game, their close proximity was already making Ryou’s face warm and his hands start to sweat nervously.

Feigning indifference he shrugged, deliberately snuggling into the Thief’s chest and smiling up at him innocently, “can I at least turn round? I can’t see the TV.”

Bakura’s crimson eyes narrowed into a suspicious stare, but he relented, lifting his arm just enough for Ryou to wriggle round so he was sat between Bakura’s legs, which he’d uncrossed earlier. Acting like his behavior was totally normal, Ryou squirmed into a more comfortable position, finding the Thief’s muscled chest actually quite comfortable, not to mention pleasantly warm against the room’s cool air. He picked up the remote and began scanning the list of movies they could pick from, not paying Bakura any attention until he cleared his throat.

“Mm?” He asked, attempting to look as if he was deeply interested in reading the summary for Beverly Hills Chihuahua.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The underlying threat in Bakura’s voice didn’t even bother him anymore, pausing in his search to shoot Bakura a disbelieving look, with a hint of condescension thrown in for good measure.

“Choosing a film..?” He worded his reply as a question, shaking his head as Bakura just stared at him. “Why, did you want to pick it?”

His Hikari was crafty, Bakura already knew that, but this was sneaky even for him, he didn’t know what he was up to, and it made him even more suspicious than normal. “That’s not really the problem.”

The innocent act came to Ryou incredibly easily, lowering the remote to rest on Bakura’s right thigh, his hand following suit, resting on his pajama bottoms, not missing Bakura’s narrowed eyes as he stared at it. “What is then?”

“Don’t act dumb, you’re lying on me.” Bakura replied, voice icy but holding no venom.

“I fail to see a problem with that. You’re the one who trapped me.” Ryou retorted, eyes wide and naïve even as the Thief simmered with annoyance.

“Yes I know, but you’re not trapped anymore.”

“What’s your point?” Ryou could feel Bakura tense with indignation behind him, wincing slightly as he tried to focus on the TV, well aware he was baiting the Thief.

“Stop lying on me, I’m not a fucking teddy bear.” Bakura spat, seemingly having had enough of Ryou’s bullshit and deliberate attempts to rile him up, absently wondering what his reaction would have been to this just a few months before, he shuddered to think.

“Could have fooled me.” The Hikari continued, tensing up as Bakura drew in an angry breath, half expecting a smack to the head or at the very least to be assaulted with one of the pillows Bakura was lounging on.

His blood ran cold as Bakura chuckled smugly, a hand coming to wrap around his neck lightly, his pulse pounding in his ears as Bakura’s voice sounded, smooth and low at his ear. “Consider yourself lucky I don’t have my dagger, dear Hikari.”

“Why? What do you want it for?” His throat burned where Bakura’s fingers caressed it, amazed at his own bravery as he continued to aggravate the Thief, who merely sighed and, to Ryou’s disappointment, removed his fingers.

“Are you being deliberately stupid?” He asked, any anger gone from his voice, tone conversational and light as he gave up the idea that Ryou would move any time soon.

“No, whatever gave you that idea?” Ryou asked, pleased at how easy it was to act dumb, though his cheeky smile gave his sarcasm away, Bakura laughing lowly.

“Fuck, you’re as bad as me.” He smiled, flopping back against the pillows and not objecting as Ryou turned to face the TV again, barely noticing that a hand still rested upon his thigh.

“I bloody hope not.” Ryou replied, wincing as if the mere suggestion he was similar to the Thief was horrifying, which in some aspects he supposed it was.

“I will smother you in your sleep.” Bakura threatened.

“No you won’t.” He replied plainly, pressing buttons on the remote to choose a film, letting Bakura get a quick glance at the title before pressing play. “We’re watching this.”

“The hole?” He read, lip curling derisively as he noticed it was only a 12 certificate. “It looks shit.”

“You can pick the next one.” He offered charitably, effectively silencing the Thief’s retorts as the film began to play, grinning as he sensed the cloud of irritation and vague confusion coming from behind him. That was fun, he’d definitely have to do it again.

* * *

 

Ryou fell asleep unsurprisingly early, the time difference and busy day proving too much for him as his eyes started drooping long before the end credits of the second film, too sleepy even to object as Bakura turned it off. He managed to crawl under the covers and tried to object to Bakura switching off the lights, but was promptly shushed.

“But it’s only ten.”

“Yes but you’re tired, don’t you want to be awake for tomorrow? We’re going shopping remember? Going to buy you some decent clothes instead of your normal shit.” Bakura replied as he padded round the semi-dark room, lamp bathing it in a soft yellow glow. Ryou looked tiny in the large double bed, hair a white mop emerging from under the purple duvet, fanned around his head like a crown.

“Fuck off Kura.” Ryou replied, but without malice, words losing any threatening effect they might have had as his mouth opened in a long yawn immediately after, making a series of happy noises as he wriggled further under the duvet, wrapping the material under him on one side to block out the cool current of air.

“Sure thing, Ry.” He replied softly, unable to stop the smile that was on his face as Ryou grinned, sliding into the bed beside him, on the same side with the lamp, the wrong side, he noticed with vague irritation, Ryou having claimed the left. “You’re on my side of the bed.”

“Shush, I’m asleep.” Ryou mumbled, words barely audible as his face sunk into the pillow, not even bothering to open his eyes.

“Sure you are,” The Thief remarked bluntly, though he removed his phone from his pocket a second later, preparing himself for a night of waiting until Mariku texted him letting him know the deal hadn’t been rearranged. “Night Ry.”

He didn’t expect Ryou to reply, the deep, even breaths coming from him implying he was asleep, so when the bundled up form shifted over the bed so Ryou was lying right next to him, small hand curled up next to his stomach, he was surprised. “Night, Kura.”

* * *

 

The hours waiting to sneak out were horrible, each time Ryou so much as rolled over Bakura held his breath, afraid he would wake up and wonder why the Thief was still wide awake, lying in bed clutching his phone to his chest and looking abnormally pale. The rucksack with the packages of drugs inside had already been packed and was hidden under the bed following rushed and rather frantic movement from Bakura when Ryou went out in search of breakfast for them. It was nearing half midnight and Bakura was beginning to wonder whether he would have been better having a nap before the meet, Ryou was sure to notice his tiredness the next day. So when his phone screen lit up he almost jumped out of his skin, eyes flashing over to the sleeping boy next him to nervously, trying not to move as he squirmed under the duvet before settling down again. Breathing a sigh of relief Bakura flipped his phone open, reading the message quickly and trying to remain calm. The message was simple, just one word shone on the illuminated screen, ‘Go.’

It was time.

He slid out of bed carefully, making sure to tuck the covers in on his vacated side, so hopefully Ryou wouldn’t wake up or get cold. Used to the dark, his every footstep was calm and calculated as he slid out of his pajama bottoms, wincing as the cold hit him, and into the jeans he’d worn the day before. He carefully extracted the rucksack from under the bed, it’s precious and deadly cargo a heavy weight on his shoulders as he grabbed the room key and his shoes. He paused to take another look round the, tell himself he was just making sure he had everything, but in reality he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to climb back into bed and sleep curled up next to Ryou, wake up entangled in his limbs like always and then head to the nearby bakery to get them breakfast, something that would make Ryou smile, like gingerbread men or shortbread stars with faces.

But, he sternly reminded himself, that was not the purpose of this trip. All he had to do was hand the drugs over, get back to the hotel safe and make sure Ryou never knew about any of it, and he’d be in the clear. The entire holiday would be paid off with the sum Mariku was going to transfer to his bank account, and he could proceed with the next stage of his plan.

“I’ll be back soon, Ry.” He whispered, even though he knew the other boy couldn’t hear him, swallowing back a sigh as he turned his back on Ryou and headed out of the room, letting the door shut silently behind him, and headed into danger. After pulling his trainers on, of course.

* * *

 

It was icy on the streets, especially dressed as he was, in only thin jeans and a hooded jacket thrown on quickly, not even a t-shirt underneath it to stop the cold winter winds biting into his skin. His fingertips were blue and numb as he blew onto them, warm breath stinging as he tried to flex them, legs moving stiffly as the warmth was sucked from his body and whipped away on the wind. He’d been walking for what felt like hours, the train journey had been full of nervousness, fear and suspicion, but this was even worse. He had to make sure Bakura wouldn’t see him, he’d only get angry or send him back to the hotel, then Ryou wouldn’t find out what he could possibly be doing in a strange city at 1am, miles from their hotel room.

Bakura took a sharp turn right, lighting another cigarette and looking around him cautiously, the feeling of being followed still lingered in his gut unpleasantly, though he’d not spotted anyone yet, and wondered if his paranoia was once again getting the better of him.

Ryou breathed a sigh of relief as the Thief resumed his walking once more, air forming a white cloud in the air almost as if Ryou too was smoking. That had been close, he was almost certain a lock of his white hair had been noticed by the ever-cautious thief, pulling his hood up as a precautionary measure, peeking round the corner of the street and carefully following behind.

The ground began to get rougher underfoot, no streetlights now to guide the way, just the glow of the moon in the cloudy sky, threatening rain, or maybe even thunder and lightning, and the light pollution of the bustling city. It was even harder to walk silently now, but luckily for Ryou’s clumsy, fumbling feet, the bodies of burnt out cars and slabs of half-demolished buildings were easy enough to hide behind, breath burning in his lungs. Part of him wanted to turn back, to trust Bakura as he had been doing and to assume he would explain in the morning when he returned, if he returned. But the other part of him that still harbored less that amicable feelings towards the Thief doubted Bakura would ever tell him what was going on, had he been hiding this from him all holiday? The black rucksack on his back was obviously filled with something from their hotel room, but what? Clothes maybe, or something he planned to sell? Maybe he was running away, had decided to abandon Ryou in this strange city with the father who didn’t love him. Maybe he’d become too much of a burden and the Thief was sick of it, or maybe he’d just had enough of Ryou again.

Lost in his thoughts and in inspecting the ground for rubble so he wouldn’t fall, he didn’t even notice the crimson eyes narrowed and glaring at him across the rough ground.

“So it’s you who’s been following me.” Bakura’s voice wasn’t even surprised, a tone of pride lacing his otherwise dark utterance, a silent threat glittering in his eyes.

Ryou started in surprise, stepping on a sharp rock that stabbed into his foot even through the thick sole of his trainers, gasp of pain leaving him as his eyes widened in alarm. Shit, he’d been caught!

“I..” The words caught in his throat, what was he supposed to say? Was he to demand the Thief explain, and risk the beating he could see was coming in Bakura’s clenched fists and tightly shut jaw, or to lie and pretend innocence?

He wasn’t even given the chance to decide what to do, the Thief stalking across the desolate ground towards him with murderous intent, or so it seemed to Ryou, who backed away, hands held up in self-defense. Oh God, not this again, he thought it was over.

“What are you doing here?” Bakura hissed, voice sounding more panicked than Ryou thought he had ever heard it, making his protective stance falter.

“I.. I heard you leave the hotel.” His teeth chattered, words broken and shaky with fear. “I wanted to know where you were going.”

“Shit!” Bakura’s hand raised to his head, running through white hair in an anxious movement Ryou didn’t often see, turning to gaze towards the narrowing of the walls that surrounded them and scanning it quickly. “You need to go back to the hotel.”

“What? Why?” Ryou complained, he’d come this far already, he had a right to know what was going on, what the Thief was hiding from him this time.

Bakura’s hand reached out, the Hikari flinching away instinctively, surprised when Bakura’s fingers came to cup his cheek, crimson eyes wide with desperation as he spoke urgently. “You need to get out of here, Ry. Just.. Please, trust me and go back to the hotel.”

Ryou shook his head, Bakura’s hand retreating to linger in the air, fingers beginning to curl closed, entire body taught with tension and nerves. “Tell me what’s going on! Why should I go back?”

The Thief’s pale hand clenched into a fist, coming up to rest on his head of messy hair before he lowered it to his chest, squeezing with frantic movements. “Ry, listen to me.” His hands gripped Ryou’s, warmth seeping between them. “Listen, I can’t explain now. I just need you to go back, okay? It’s dangerous for you to be here. Please.”

His voice was thick with panic and he seemed oddly vulnerable, thumb rubbing the back of Ryou’s hands in an erratic, jumpy movement.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow, I promise. Just please go back, I..” His voice stopped, gaze falling to stare at their hands, voice softening as he continued. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Something in the crimson eyes told Ryou he was telling the truth, mind link between them still on both sides, closed off from each other, but he didn’t need it to know Bakura wasn’t lying this time. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, praying to be brave, before reopening them and taking one last look at Bakura, seeing the desperation in his eyes, and nodding. “Okay, I’ll trust you. But I don’t want you to get hurt either.”

The words weren’t hard for Ryou to say, but Bakura let out a chuckle at them, familiar smirk and confident stance making him seem like he hadn’t just been utterly vulnerable, practically begging Ryou.

“Thank you.” He said, nodding as he leaned in to press their foreheads together, knowing in his heart that this moment might be the last they’d spend together. He pulled back a second later, he could still sense Ryou’s unease, but he knew the boy would listen to him and go back, unable to resist pressing a soft kiss to his forehead and taking one last inhale of soft white hair before forcing himself to pull away. “Go back, I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah, see you soon.” Ryou replied, his tone not allowing room for anything else, eyes silently insisting that Bakura kept the unspoken promise and returned to him unhurt. He forced himself to take another deep breath, bitter air burning his lungs all the way down, taking one last look at the Thief, and turning around, not looking back as he began his journey to the hotel.

* * *

 

Crimson eyes watched attentively until Ryou’s shape disappeared, swallowed by the shadows of the early hours that surrounded the two of them like thick fog. He knew he could come back, but hoped he’d be sensible enough to know this was nothing he needed to get involved in. He said a quick prayer to Ra, turning to walk to what could be his end with his head held high and a fresh cigarette glowing between his fingers, safe in the knowledge that whatever happened, Ryou was waiting for him like always. Through the gap in the wall he could see three men in a line, stood waiting for him to arrive, their outfits were simple, black jeans and matching hoodies, pulled over their faces so they couldn’t be identified. He was on guard immediately, he had no plan to die here, not now there was somebody relying on him to come back. He wanted to go back, to return to Ryou, to the hotel with the warm bed. Couldn’t wait for this to be over and done with so he could curl up with him, stroke that soft white hair and apologize over and over again for deceiving him and scaring him and undoing everything they’d worked to achieve.

But those thoughts wouldn’t help him now, brushing the comforting images away and approaching with his head held high, knowing he needed to look strong and controlled. After all, anything could happen.

“I’ve got what you want.” He called across the waste ground between them, removing the bag from his shoulders carefully and holding it up, waiting for the other party to act before moving.

“Put it on the ground.” The voice that rang across the deserted ground between them was cold and authoritative, and despite Mariku’s promise that neither party would bring weapons, Bakura could see the outline of a gun tucked inside his jeans. He’d been lucky enough to never be shot before, and he didn’t particularly want to experience it, being stabbed was bad enough. “Now back away.”

He did as he was told, probably for the first time in his life, he could feel his heart pound in his ears as one of the men approached the bag, the others not taking their eyes off him for a second, pinning him in place. He’d bet the entire pile of reward money that they both had matching guns, or other weapons concealed on themselves somewhere. Trust Mariku to play dirty. The time it took for the man to reach the bag seemed to stretch on forever, Bakura hardly daring to breathe, footsteps crunching across the loose rocks and gravel and the bitter winter wind whistling through the abandoned buildings. He could feel his hands shaking and went to bury them deep in his hoodie pockets when the man advancing stopped, glaring at him and reaching for his belt.

“Hands where we can see them.” Bakura raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, rolling his eyes and trying to remain confident despite the fact that he was regretting this more with every passing second.

“I was told there would be no weapons.” He remarked, trying to keep his voice even as the man reached the bag, grabbing the handle and yanking it up carefully, as if afraid it was a bomb or something similar.

“We were told you weren’t to be trusted.” He replied, content the bag wasn’t anything dangerous he laid it down on the floor, unzipping it carefully and, removing a small torch from his pocket, examining the contents. He gave Bakura an appraising look, small, sinister smile on his face. “Good work. It’s all here.”

“I don’t go back on my word.” Bakura replied, scowling as the man shouldered the bag, backing away from him slowly until he reached the safety of the others, handing the bag to the smallest in the trio, who seemed to be some sort of Olympic sprinter with the speed he raced off down the train tracks. The Thief swallowed thickly, now what? He hardly thought he could just leave, one silenced bullet to the back of the head and nobody would ever know what had happened. No, he wouldn’t leave until they did. He suddenly remembered what Mariku had said, ‘give them the package, they’ll ring me and I can wire you the money.’

“Alright, you’ve got your stuff now, tell Mariku to leave us alone.”

“Tell me yourself Thief.” The all too familiar voice broke through the shroud of silence that had descended upon the station, wind whistling through the collapsing buildings seeming so much quieter now as shivers traveled up Bakura’s spine. The hairs on his neck stood up as he slowly turned round, fingers reaching for the knife in his jeans but- shit! Airport customs hadn’t let him bring it, and what valid excuse could he have for purchasing a new one while on their lovely holiday? He turned round, praying silently to every God he could name that Ryou had made it back to a more public area of safety, or if not was hiding nearby and wouldn’t be stupid enough as to try and interfere.

His heart plummeted as he turned around and wide crimson eyes took in the sight before him. Mariku had not come alone, three men flanked him on either side, matching tans and bulging muscles showing that they would be more than a match for the Thief, who hadn’t fought in hand to hand combat in nearly nine months now. Mariku looked smug, manic smile stretched across his face as he nodded to one of the rats he’d hired to collect the drugs. But it wasn’t any of these details that Bakura found himself unable to look away from, it was the white haired boy pinned to Mariku’s chest by a bulging forearm pressed into his throat, slim hands scrabbling at it pathetically and eyes wide with horror and fear and.. Oh God, betrayal.

“Ryou!” He cried on instinct, lunging forwards, with what intention he wasn’t even sure, he just knew he didn’t want Ryou anywhere near the monster that currently held him captive as easily as you might pin down a butterfly by its fragile wing.

“I don’t think so, Thief.” Mariku’s expression turned nasty instantly even as he signaled to his minions to restrain him.

“Let him go!” He growled, fighting against his restrainers who had him pinned by his arms, exerting bone-breaking force on his limbs. “We had a deal.”

Mariku’s smile was too smug for Bakura, only incensing his rage more. “Well you know what they say, Thief. Deals are made to be broken.” His jovial, bragging eyes hardened by the end of the sentence, free hand moving to caress white hair in a sickeningly sweet motion for a kidnapper. Ryou flinched away on instinct, touch repulsive and making his stomach turn with its contrasting sweetness compared to the thick forearm making his breathing difficult it was repellent. “You were so stupid, believing I’d truly leave you alone after this. How unlike you, it’s almost like you’ve… Softened.”

Bakura growled at the insult, accurate though it probably was, bristling with rage, “Let Ryou go. He has nothing to do with this.”

“Exactly Thief, he doesn’t even know what’s going on.” Mariku’s smile was cruel and wide as he tightened his grip on Ryou’s fragile neck, face turning red as his mouth opened and closed, gasping for air desperately. “I’ll give you the pleasure of explaining. I’m sure Ryou will find it... eye opening.”

He released Ryou so fast he didn’t have time to steady himself, collapsing to the ground heavily where he sucked in desperate, greedy breaths of the cold night air, curling into a ball instinctively as Mariku’s foot kicked at him. “Pay attention vanilla slice, this is going to be good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr at- motorcycle-chan.tumblr.com


	21. Chapter 21

Ryou’s eyes were wide and scared as they looked across the rough ground to where Bakura stood, still restrained by Mariku’s minions, the short distance suddenly feeling like thousands of miles as he registered the distrust in his Hikari’s eyes. “Wh-what’s going on Bakura?” His voice shook, pajamas doing nothing to shield him from the icy wind that whipped his hair around his face like a halo, squirming to sit upright, seeming confused he wasn’t being restrained any more.

“Looks like the cat’s got his tongue.” One of Mariku’s thugs mocked, twisting Bakura’s arm harshly, making him hiss in pain and scowl, eyes pointed stubbornly at the ground, refusing to speak. He couldn’t bring himself to raise his eyes and stare into Ryou’s face, couldn’t stand to see the betrayal and hurt that would be in the usually soft and open chocolate orbs.

“I guess I’ll explain then.” Mariku looked like the cat that got the cream, as he began to speak, voice cold and vindictive, boiling over with spite and malicious hate. “I’m sure you’ve realized by now that this was all planned months before you even knew about this ‘holiday.’ Show him.”

These last words were an order, the precious package of cocaine being held up in front of Bakura, who suddenly hated it more than he ever had anything before, it had caused him so much trouble, and there was no way it was worth it. The runner must have doubled back to meet Mariku with it, Bakura scowled.

“Is… is that..?”

“Cocaine. Worth two hundred and fifty thousand on the street.”

“I thought you’d stopped dealing… You promised Bakura.” Ryou’s voice was already laced with hurt, and Bakura felt it pierce his heart unpleasantly, shrugging like he didn’t care even though he wanted to explain himself, but how could he explain this?

“Oh he promised, did he? You can’t trust a word he says cream puff, I thought you’d know that by now.” Mariku crooned, kneeling down to caress Ryou’s hair, who was far too distracted with staring at Bakura in silent horror to even try and shuffle away, flinching violently instead. “I offered him a good deal, he smuggles it over here, under the pretense of a lovely holiday for you two, and he gets twenty five grand. He agreed very easily. I got him the passports and tickets, all he had to do was pretend nice and get you to agree to go.”

“Kura…” Ryou’s voice was a broken whisper, carried to the listening Thief on the wind, who swallowed heavily and raised his head, taking a shaky breath through his teeth as Ryou’s eyes met his, and they were filled with unshed tears.

“So the Thief pretended to be happy families and brought you on a nice holiday to see Daddy, carrying pounds of illegal, high-class cocaine in his bag. Two brothers going abroad for Christmas, to see their dad.” Mariku smiled as if he was telling a nice goodnight story, instead of revealing Bakura’s deception for what it was, and destroying any trust Ryou might have had for him. “You were his safety net. So innocent and sweet, who’d never think Bakura could be tricking him.”

Mariku’s tone turned nasty as he gripped Ryou’s chin, forcing his face up and staring at him, “stupid, naïve, foolish little Ryou. Did you honestly think that he could care for you? He’s a Thief, Ryou. Not to be trusted.” He scoffed, smile showing just how pleased he was with the situation he’d forced them in to. “And to think, all this time, you though he was doing a nice thing. It must hurt, Little Ryou.” His grip on his chin tightened, spiteful words spat into his face like daggers. “It must hurt like hell.”

“Leave him alone.” Bakura growled, still struggling in the arms of the men who held him back, brain frantically trying to work out an escape plan, but every option he had ended with him being shot attempting to flee, and Ryou being captured.

Ryou was unceremoniously dropped back down to the floor, eyes wary and filled with distrust as Bakura tried to defend him.

“Oh it’s a bit late to protect him now Thief. Don’t act like this wasn’t all planned.” Ryou’s stomach sank as he managed to stand up, wary of the men who flanked him, planned? This? No... Surely not even the Thief would plan this.

“Kura? What’s he talking about.”

Mariku’s smile was wide like a Cheshire cats as he bent down to whisper in Ryou’s ear, deliberately making it so Bakura couldn’t hear.

“Ryou! He... He’s lying! Don’t listen to him! He’s-“ Bakura shouted across the ground, struggling madly to escape, words cut off as Mariku whirled around.

“Would you SHUT HIM UP!” He bellowed, amethyst eyes angry as he glared at his thugs. “I didn’t hire you to stand around.”

Bakura barely had time to tense his stomach muscles, let alone lift his knees to try and protect himself before the fist connected with his flesh so hard it tore the air out of his lungs and made his vision swim with bright colors. He choked for air, gagging as sharp, acidic bile rose in his throat and seemed to skin his lungs as he bent doubled, coughing blood onto the floor. These guys weren’t to be fucking messed with, he could see that now, just one punch and he was practically useless, if he’d been standing freely he knew he’d be in the fetal position on the cold ground, squirming pathetically. The hit left him wide open for more, unable to defend himself and just recovering from the savage blow to his stomach when a second lackey flung a tremendously powerful uppercut into his chin, probably bruising his windpipe and flinging his head back. He became a dead weight in his captor’s arms, wheezing harshly as he tried in vain to recover, in too much pain to even hear Ryou’s gasp of horror as he watched the scene from afar, trapped in Mariku’s hold.

* * *

 

Ryou was no longer focusing on Mariku’s poisonously whispered words, eyes locked on the Thief’s swaying form, amazed at how quickly he’d been subdued, without even being able to put up a fight. He didn’t understand, if what Mariku had said was true, and they’d been in cahoots the entire time why would he be fighting to get free, and why would Mariku let his men beat him up? Something here just didn’t add up…

He could see Bakura struggling to raise his head, blood spilling down his cheek from where he’d presumably bit his tongue, his eyes looked wobbly and unfocused and his feet failing him when his jailers released his arms, staggering forwards uncertainly before tumbling to the ground. He looked drunk as he raised his head from the ground, hands trying to raise him from the gravel only to fall back down as he misjudged the distance, sending his cheek smashing into the ground. He looked dazed, staring around in confusion, as if uncertain of where he was and what was happening, hand pressed to his head as he managed to stand, feet stumbling uncertainly as he righted himself. He could still see Ryou entrapped in Mariku’s snares, even with his blurry eyes and the throbbing pain in his chin, trying to make sense of the seemingly uneven ground as he stepped forwards, not sure what he was supposed to be doing.

“Ry...” His stomach contracted as he drew in a breath to speak, words cut off as he bent double and coughed, blood spraying the floor and trickling warmly down his lip. The liquid in his throat choked him, words coming out strangled and wet as rich metallic iron coated his teeth. “He’s lying.”

If anyone else could see him now he’d be ashamed, Bakura, put out of action by two punches? It was laughable. He forced himself to straighten up, trying to ignore the fuzziness at the edge of his vision that was almost certainly a severe concussion, not bothering to wipe his face clear of blood. He stood straight backed and proud, glare once again resplendent on his battered and swelling face. If this was going to happen, if he was going to fight, be beaten to death, and finally meet his end, he’d do it with his head held high. He refused to die like a fucking rodent, trodden under the heels of Mariku and his accomplices.

“He’s lying.” This time his voice was hard, and icy as the ground upon which he stood, sure and overflowing with conviction as his eyes met those of Ryou, ignoring the wind that whipped his hair into matted knots. “This wasn’t in our deal Mariku, you got what you want, so give him back.”

His ears were beginning to ring and he was vaguely aware that he was swaying on the spot where he stood, aware that if he even tried to move he would undoubtedly collapse, again.

“Oh no, Thief. I remember the plan exactly. You transport the drugs here, using Ryou as cover against airport security, spend a week attending to his every whim and trying to put up with him. Then you come here,” he spread his arms wide, gesturing to the deserted station around them, the sky gradually lightening as daytime approached, cold, icy blue sky bringing a bitter, biting wind with it that chilled Bakura to the bone more than Mariku’s sharp words. “Get rid of the drugs and Ryou in one easy transaction, and get rewarded handsomely.”

Ryou’s face was white, brows orbs wide and horrifyingly dry as Mariku’s words sank in, staring across the hard ground to where his roommate, and, dare he say it, friend, stood, swaying in the breeze. He couldn’t believe what Mariku was saying, or he’d like to think he couldn’t, but something about it all resonated unpleasantly truthfully in his mind. Could Bakura really have been faking all this time? Worming his way into his good books only to use him to earn some cash before handing him over to Mariku like some sort of repulsive human trafficking deal? He could feel bile rise in his throat and swallowed it down hard, forcing himself to take calm breaths and stay in control even as any trust he’d had in Bakura shattered like glass into tiny, unfixable fragments.

“That’s not what we agreed Mariku, and you know it.” Bakura growled, still trying to figure out why the world was spinning, oh shit, he felt like he was going to pass out. But he couldn’t, if he did Mariku would take Ryou and he would be utterly fucked. “Give, him, back.”

Mariku examined his fingernails absently, barely taking Bakura seriously, though the two strong men either side of him may have been something to do with it. “I don’t think I will, Thief. I’ve been looking for a new toy. And your precious vanilla slice fits the bill perfectly.”

Ryou’s face was paler than Bakura had ever seen it, eyes widening as he realized what Mariku meant, what his plans were. But he was powerless, and by the look of it, so was Bakura.

“I’m bored of you now,” Mariku remarked plainly, sounding like a spoiled child growing uninterested in a toy. “Deal with him.”

“Wha-“ He didn’t have time to speak, so much as try to defend himself, the blow came from behind, a cheap move, knocking him to the ground so hard blood erupted from his mouth. The last sounds he heard before he blacked out were the terrified screams of Ryou, yelling his name over and over as he was dragged away.

Bakura had let him down, he had failed him.

* * *

 

When he came to, everyone was gone, but that was what he’d been expecting. There was no point chasing after them, the light of the sky and the blue tinge to his fingers made it obvious some hours had passed, they could be miles away by now. He dragged himself slowly to his feet, dizziness still not subsiding and injuries pounding as he staggered in the direction of the tube station.

The journey back to the hotel was a sickening blur, probably only partly due to the blood trickling into his eyes and obscuring his vision. He was grateful for the early hour of the morning, the less people to interfere the better, and he was left well alone as he curled into a seat in the corner of an almost empty carriage. The only other passenger shooting him curious and mildly scared looks over his broadsheet newspaper.

The hotel, he had to get to the hotel, maybe there’d be a clue, some hint as to where Mariku had taken him. Knowing the tomb keeper the way he did, he’d probably have left something to scorn him further with the knowledge that he had won.

He needed to breathe, he needed to clear his head and he needed to fucking think. He needed a plan, to save Ryou, and to rip Mariku’s head off those bastard shoulders and show him what happened to people who dared mess with him, the Thief King of Kul Elna.

Trashing the hotel room was high on his list of priorities, he was angry and scared and fuck it all he just needed to destroy something to remove the tension sizzling through his veins and get his head back in a logical, deadly order. The receptionist didn’t even respond to his haggard appearance as he ran through the entrance and sprinted up the stairs to their room, hoping for some clue as to where they’d taken him and what for, though his imagination was active enough for him to suppress a shudder.

He unlocked the door with shaking hands, dropping the keycard twice before he managed to slide the door open and stepped inside, mouth going dry as he took in the scene.

Trashing the hotel room was out of the question, someone had already done that, the beds had been torn apart, clothes ripped out of the wardrobe and the bedside tables emptied and smashes, contents scattered about the room. The finality of it, the sheer proof that Mariku had known their location all along, had probably been tracking them the whole holiday, it was almost enough for Bakura to give up. But a buzzing from underneath a pile of Ryou’s t-shirts drew his attention, snapping his head over to it and forgetting the sharp stab of pain that tore through his temples at the movement. He scrambled across the room clumsily, feet stepping on books and clothes and a toothbrush. His hands wouldn’t co-operate, a mixture of the fear and cold meant they were shaking so furiously he could barely read the text that lit up the screen.

It was from Mariku.

‘Transferred in the money, that should pay for the damages to the hotel at least. You’ve grown sloppy, Thief, you didn’t even notice you’d been followed the whole time.’

He wanted to throw the phone, to smash it into the mirror and scream and destroy the fitted wardrobes but all he could do was stare at it blankly. He knew it, they’d been followed from the second they landed, every place they went, every time they left the hotel, somebody was staking them, feeding back their every movement.

What was funny, made him chuckle derisively as the thought popped into his head, was that Ryou would know what to do. He’d be able to stay calm and formulate a plan, to keep level headed and reasonable when all Bakura wanted to do was rip Mariku’s fucking head off and use it as a football.

He needed him back, that was all he knew, they’d been through so much and he couldn’t bear to lose him now, he finally had something precious and he’d let it be taken away.

His hands were firmer, more solid as they searched through the phone, shaky, probably completely insane idea in his mind as he pressed the call button and listened to the tinny ringing.

* * *

 

“Hey Bakura, how’s tha holiday goin’?” Joey’s sunny voice filtered through the speaker and Bakura could have cried with relief, now maybe he could get help, there was no way he could do this alone, as much as it pained him to admit it.

“Ryou’s been kidnapped.” He spat it out immediately, as much as he knew it would confuse Joey, he had no time to waste on pleasantries, not that he usually did anyway.

There was a pause in which he could hear nothing down the line, removing the phone from his ear and praying it hadn’t cut out.

“Whadya mean kidnapped?” There was noise rustling on the other end and Bakura could hear another voice, deeper and commanding. “Wait, you’re on speaka phone.”

“Fuck, I’m a piece of shit. It’s my fault!” Bakura wasn’t making sense, but fuck it all he was panicking! Ryou was gone with a homicidal lunatic who was probably planning to do all sorts of disgusting things to him and there was nothing he could do but somehow hope Joey of all people could help.

“Calm down,” this voice wasn’t Joey’s, and Bakura didn’t recognize it, but it was a damn sight calmer and more authoritative than Joey’s. “Explain what’s going on.”

“The, the holiday- It was a fucking lie. I-Mariku said he’d pay me if I did it. I-I wasn’t thinking properly, and now he’s fucking taken him!”

Another pause, the sound of typing, “Mariku Ishtar?”

Bakura froze, how the fuck did they know who he was talking about? “Yeah.”

“I’m going to need you to explain what’s happened.”

“Kaiba…” Joey’s voice filtered back onto the line, sounding concerned.

Oh, so it was Seto Kaiba who he was speaking with, fucking hell, no wonder he sounded so in control, he’d probably remain unruffled if his own brother was kidnapped.

“I, Mariku offered me £25,000 if I smuggled cocaine into England for him.”

“I assume you did it,” there was no judgement in the voice, just the same calculative tone as the sound of typing continued.

“Yes.” His voice was small, and Joey’s inhale of shock didn’t soothe his conscience any. “He said if I took Ry it would look less suspicious so I... So I did it.”

Joey’s voice was understandably angry when it came back onto the line, “are you for fucking real? D’you even know how he-“

“Pup, not now. This… Ryou is your friend, right?”

Bakura could hear them talking over speakerphone, the ‘pup’ nickname is something he would usually mock, but now he couldn’t see the humor in it, just listening as Kaiba calmed Joey down.

“I might be able to help.” Kaiba’s voice was like a blessing to Bakura, who felt almost like he might cry, hot tears filling his eyes as hope, even a tiny fraction, was restored. “I need details. How did he get kidnapped? When, and by who?”

“I- This morning, about four hours ago, I’m not sure, I- I was unconscious. I went to drop off the… To drop it off, and got ambushed. There were five of them, they took Ryou. I only knew Mariku, the rest he said were hired, I- I don’t know anything else.”

“So he could be on a plane by now?” He could hear typing and other voices talking in the distance, words too quiet to be heard.

“Yes, they, they came to the hotel.” He regarded the room around him, wondering how the fuck they’d managed to even get in and suddenly questioning if they’d been looking for something.

“Did they take his passport?”

Bakura’s blood ran cold and he almost fell as he crossed the room to Ryou’s bedside table, which was mostly intact, opening the drawers and heart falling as he realized that the drawer with all their important travel goods, was empty.

“Yes, I, they took both of them.” How was he supposed to get home now? Undoubtedly Mariku would have taken Ryou to somewhere in Japan, but how could he get back without a passport?

“Where’s my UK jet?” It was obvious Kaiba wasn’t addressing him anymore and all he could do was listen nervously as the CEO issued orders and typed commands. “I can get a private jet to you in an hour, you won’t need your passport. Are you injured?”

“I… Um, yeah, it’s not too bad though.” He looked down at himself with a frown, it wasn’t actually so bad, he had stopped bleeding and aside from the head pain, he was mostly okay now.

“You don’t need medical attention?”

“No.”

“Okay, be at Heathrow in 45 minutes, I’ll send someone to collect you and fly you over. I can get my security to watch the airport in case your friend is flown in.”

“We’ll do our best, Bakura!” Joey’s voice was firm and definitive even as the phone was put down before he could even think about thanking them.

What could he do now but shower, change and pack whatever of their belongings he could find? This was going to be a torturously long 45 minutes.

* * *

 

Sometimes Joey wondered if dating someone as efficient as Kaiba was really a good idea for an unorganized idiot like himself, but that thought was soon wiped from his mind as he regarded the sight in front of him with a slack jaw.

“Close your mouth pup, you’ll catch flies.” Seto, and when had he become Seto exactly? Spoke, smirk pulling up the side of his thin lips. Face soon falling back into cold efficiency as he looked down at his entire security force, who stood before him in orderly rows, half obviously just roused from sleep, crumpled uniforms and sleepy eyes barely noticeable under their disciplined stance. Stood stiffly like toy soldiers, the fifty strong team of private security, guards and trained military personnel waited calmly for orders, nobody daring to so much as clear their throat, let alone question what needed all of their attention at this time, early in the morning. Joey ignored his teasing, but closed his mouth none the less, waiting for Kaiba to instruct the force and get going with their task.

“I am only going to give you this briefing once, so listen up.” Ears pricked up, shuffling of feet sounded as the team stood to attention, brains ready to accept and ingrain their orders. “An acquaintance of mine has been kidnapped while in England, my source there has notified me he will be flown back into Japan sometime tonight. Your job is to infiltrate the airport, identify him and track him to his final destination. You are not to be seen, it is of utmost importance that the boy’s kidnappers do not know we are aware of their plans.”

Here Joey clumsily activated the slides Kaiba had hurriedly prepared, image of Mariku projected onto a large screen behind their heads, soldiers taking in the tanned skin, muscled body and wild hair with calculative eyes. “This is the kidnapper, he is to be considered highly dangerous and is not to be approached unless the victim seems to be in immediate or grave danger.” The chestnut haired boy nodded to Joey, who flicked over to the next slide, heart clenching and worried face falling further as the sight of his friend, smiling widely came onto the screen. Soft hair white and clean and eyes glinting with happiness as he posed, fingers up in a peace sign, Joey himself had provided the photograph, having taken it on their last day of school together.

“This is Ryou Bakura, the victim. He is sixteen years old, white hair, brown eyes, though his kidnappers may have disguised him. Commit his face to memory, we cannot let him slip by unseen.” He stared across the sea of faces with a blank expression, no emotion seeping into his voice as he gave them their marching orders. “My contacts in the UK have been notified to watch the airport but there is a chance they arrived too late and the plane may already be in the air. They will be using fake passports and may be heavily armed. They are clever and they are organized, they will try to evade you if they feel they are being followed. You need to be inconspicuous, to blend in to the background. The safety of this boy and his safe retrieval at a later stage are our top priority.”

The security shifted where they stood, some looking nervous, while some looked keen and ready to get going. They were an elite team, hand-picked by Kaiba himself and trained in every kind of martial art, espionage and combat you could imagine.

Joey couldn’t help but be impressed at the power his boyfriend wielded at times like this, at only sixteen years old he could command a force of fifty men, all older and more experienced than him and know his orders would be obeyed rigidly. His brown eyes glinted with urgency as he turned to his second in command, Major Hayashi Kiatsu, eyes locking and an understanding nod shared between them.

“I’ll leave this to you, Major Hayashi.” He gestured for Joey to follow him, the sound of squads being divided and specific military orders ringing loudly down the corridor behind them. Joey didn’t know what to respond to Kaiba’s plans, he didn’t know what the best course of action was, he just knew he wanted Ryou back to safety as soon as possible. The worry was coiled tightly in his gut, and the feeling of helplessness did nothing to settle his frayed nerves, biting at his lip anxiously, almost unable to feel the pain as he imagined Ryou, terrified and surrounded by dangerous men, miles away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at- motorcycle-chan.tumblr.com


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey hey guess what? This chapter has officially reach my goal of writing a 10,000 word+ chapter! :D

Being bundled into the back of a nondescript car by three less than gentle thugs was not the way Ryou wanted to spend this particular morning, or any morning if he was honest. Any attempts to fight against his captors had only resulted in a gun being jammed hard into his spine by the man who walked behind him, too close for comfort, not that there was much of that anyway, seeing as he’d been kidnapped and all.

Quite frankly, the situation was ridiculous, something out of a cheaply made American film with more explosions and cheesy sex scenes than plot, not something that happened to him. He was far too normal, he was just a regular sixteen year old student, and there was nothing remarkable or inherently kidnap-able, if that was even a thing, about him. Sure, he was more intelligent than the average person, but being kidnapped for good A-level results was too absurd for anybody to even consider it.

No, he’d been kidnapped because Mariku liked him, that was the long and short of it, and to be honest, somebody that would take a boy in broad daylight and effectively hold him hostage _just because he liked him_ , was far more terrifying than the kidnappers of Hollywood. He was where he was now, and where was that exactly?, because Mariku had taken a shine to him and wanted him for himself. It would almost be flattering if not for the whole ‘blindfolded, tied up and in a car with four heavily armed men’, thing.

As it was, he was terrified. No, he was fucking terrified, it was too serious a situation for his brain to come up with anything but alarmed expletives and colourful curses that the Thief himself would be proud of. He could hear the sounds of cars around them, horns honking and engines revving and the occasional sound of sirens that made his heart flutter with hope for just a second before they passed by.

He accepted his fate relatively calmly, or as calmly as he could, knowing there was literally nothing he could do to escape the situation, and the vehicle, he found himself in. He was much, much smaller than his captors, and outnumbered. He didn’t particularly relish the idea of trying to fight people who’d brought Bakura down so easily either, if they could fell the Thief with one punch, they could easily kill him with the same.

Where they were headed was a mystery too, the other occupants of the car were silent, presumably so he wouldn’t get any hints as to their destination or plans for him. The only thing he was aware of was the hand carding through his hair, making his skin prick up in goose bumps and his stomach churn, wishing he could squirm away from what he knew was Mariku’s hand. Maybe they were headed to an airport, though how they expected to get through without his passport and any luggage, he had no idea, or maybe they’d smuggle him out of the country on a boat? That seemed more likely, though if so he had a hellishly long journey ahead of him, it would take, what?... A month at least. So an airport then. They’d take him back to Japan surely, Mariku couldn’t speak English to Ryou’s knowledge and he had contacts in Domino City that he would probably be reluctant to break ties with.

He suddenly realised how little he knew about the man who held him captive, he was originally from Egypt like Bakura and Yami, he knew that much, he had a Hikari of his own too, though he didn’t treat him well. But what did he do now? He had paid Bakura £25,000 for this, or something similar anyway, the details were fuzzy in his head, booked the tickets for them. He’d flown himself over, hired some kind of hitmen and was involved in some drug smuggling activity which would earn him a quarter of a million pounds, 45 million yen. That wasn’t even on the same level as Bakura’s back street dealing, where he could make maybe 270 thousand yen on a good night, and nothing on a bad night. This was a much bigger scale, international and so incredibly risky you’d have to be either an idiot or a mastermind to even try it. He figured Bakura was the idiot and Mariku was the mastermind.

He turned his mind to what Mariku might want with him, something in his gut told him it was more than just pleasant company and nice conversation, his mind was screaming at him to bolt, but he was trapped and his skin burned where the Yami’s fingers grazed it. He remembered an offhand comment Bakura had made once, on another occasion where he accused Mariku of flirting with him, something along the lines of making it less obvious that ‘you want to fuck my Hikari.’ His blood froze with the thought that Mariku might… Oh God, what if he raped him? He felt like curling into an even smaller ball and crying, or freaking out and screaming, thrashing and scratching and kicking until they grew sick of him and ended it, fast and efficient with a silenced pistol shot through his head.

People would notice he was missing though, Joey and Yugi and his other friends at school would notice after a few weeks, and Bakura knew he was.

Just the thought of his double crossing, back stabbing, good for nothing bastard of a Yami made his teeth grind shut angrily. He couldn’t believe he’d been using him like this, worming his way into his good books and, dare he say it, his heart. Making friends with kind gestures and words, with hugs and hair ruffles and smiles that had looked so fucking genuine how was he supposed to know it was all a façade? And all for money, for some insignificant sum that they could manage perfectly well without, for greed and nothing else. Bakura had done all this for the chance to do the job of a lifetime, smuggle these drugs for me, get a free holiday and reimbursement that could rent you somewhere for a year or buy you a crappy one bedroom flat in a rough area to do up.

He just couldn’t believe he’d fallen for it. Somewhere buried deep under the fear and tension in his chest disappointment and hurt lurked, regret for believing the Thief might really want to be friends, might even have feelings for him. Hurt at the Thief for stringing him along, making him start to like him with the intention of hurting him once again when he got the money and scarpered. The minute he didn’t need to rely on Ryou and his father’s money, Bakura would be out of there like a dog out of the starting gates, sprinting away and not bothering to look back. He’d probably appreciate the freedom to do what he liked, away from Ryou’s motherly, almost bossy tendencies.

This was insane. Here he was, gagged and bound, fuck knew where, and he was blaming himself for Bakura’s betrayal. Maybe if he’d been a better Hikari, done what he’d asked and complained less, let him smoke in the house, cooked better food and been a better companion. If he’d been more like someone else and less like himself he would have stayed.

Who would have thought the Thief would be skilled as an actor too?

* * *

 “We’re almost here, cream puff.” Mariku’s voice was smooth as silk but it grated over Ryou’s frayed nerves like sandpaper over already torn flesh.

His mouth was gagged, so he couldn’t ask exactly where ‘here’ was, and he had the feeling he might not get an answer anyway. He felt the car roll to a stop, gravel crunching underneath the wheels and his head spinning as the motion finally ceased, sound of slamming doors horribly loud and making him flinch every time.

“I’m sure you’re going to be a good boy, but I’ll tell you anyway.” The hand in his hair lost its softness, yanking at the strands and making him muffle a cry in the rag jamming his mouth. “If you scream, I will shoot you in the kneecap, if you try to run, I will shoot you in the kneecap, if you do anything except walk silently beside me, I will shoot you in the kneecap. Understand?”

His nod was almost frenzied, not doubting Mariku’s excellence with a gun for a second as he rapidly ruled screaming or running out of his plan. Maybe if they were at an airport he could try and make eye contact with somebody, try and ask for help silently using body language.

“That’s my vanilla slice.” The voice was soothing again, but it was like the purr of a tiger, seemingly harmless and almost enticing, but hiding razor sharp claws and a lust to tear him apart.

The blindfold was removed with no warning and he squeezed his eyes shut, daylight stabbing into them and making him grimace in pain. He knew he needed to open his eyes as soon as possible, the sound of tearing fabric and feeling of cold steel against his wrists made him freeze, eyes open a slit as they adjusted. Wrists suddenly freed he felt somehow even more vulnerable, eyes blinking rapidly around him.

“I’m going to take the gag off, one whimper, and I’ll make sure you never walk again.” Mariku’s amethyst eyes were almost luminous as they leered over him, uncomfortably close as his head rested in his lap. Just the thought was enough to make him want to gag.

He nodded again, eyes wide and trying to convey as much agreement as he could. If he was going to escape, he’d have to be really fucking clever about it, and unfortunately, unlike the Thief, he’d never had to escape from many life or death situations before. He couldn’t even imagine the pain of a bullet shattering his kneecap, but he knew it wasn’t something he was keen to try out, even if he did somehow still manage to escape.

The knife flashed silver and there was only time for him to take a sharp breath and for his eyes to grow wide before it slashed cleanly through the saliva-soaked cloth in between his teeth and he could breathe properly again.

“Get up,” Mariku ordered, seemingly having grown bored of petting Ryou’s hair like one might a cat they were particularly fond of.

He was more than happy to comply, surprisingly numb limbs scrabbling off him and out of the car clumsily, pins and needles setting in and making his teeth clench even as he shivered. Two of the men were at his sides instantly, almost as if ensuring he didn’t try to run, not that he could have done anyway with how badly his knees were trembling, the threat to shatter them heavy in his skull as Mariku’s hand suddenly was on his lower back.

“Wh-Where are we?” He hated the tremor in his voice, he knew if the Thief was here he’d tell him to hold his head high, to pretend he wasn’t afraid and to not let his guard down. But Bakura was the one who had brought him into this situation, and his advice had hardly proven trustworthy so far, so Ryou allowed his head the nervous twitch it gave.

“A private airfield, that’s all you need to know.” Mariku’s voice was cold again, he was a creature of contrasts, his palm was warm against his back but those purple eyes were like ice. His teeth smiled almost fondly but his tanned lips hid vicious canines just waiting to be bared to rip his throat right out of his soft neck. His mane of hair was just like a lions, and the more time Ryou spent with him, the more he realised just how accurate that comparison was. “Come on, we have a flight to catch.”

He had so many questions, he wanted to ask how they were supposed to fly without his passport, where they were going, what Mariku was going to do to him. But he forced his mouth shut and bit the inside of his lip so hard it made his eyes water, walking silently behind Mariku up to the small plane that was taxied at the end of the runway. His eyes flittered around everywhere, trying to find some hint of where they were, but if they were still in London he didn’t recognise it. The airport was surrounded by tall chain link fences, topped with razor wire and the only view through them was of waste ground, weeds growing through cracks where a building had one been, concrete square showing it’s perimeters and half a wall left standing.

The wind whipped his hair into his face and mouth, but he dared not lift a hand from his side to brush it off, all too aware of the knife Mariku had handed to one of his thugs and the gun that rested in the Yami’s pocket. He’d bet all of the £25,000 Bakura had been paid that his finger was on the trigger now, fully prepared to pull it out and shoot a single bullet through his knee, shoulder, even his head if he needed.

It was like walking to his execution on Death Row, it wasn’t like his life flashed before his eyes though. More like a series of regrets. His father’s face, twisted in distaste, Bakura leering over him, kicking at him like a dog and spitting into his face, Yugi, frowning as he saw thin cuts running up his arm.

Him, kissing Bakura outside the coffee shop, strawberries on his lips and a smile on his face.

His thoughts derailed after that, flipping between anger, confusion and hurt as he tried to work out just what Bakura’s plan had been. Maybe he’d never even intended Ryou to find out, maybe he’d accepted the job and decided to keep it a secret forever, to not risk losing him. But something cynical inside him scoffed at that, the Thief didn’t form attachments to people, he used them for what he could then he left them high and dry, he’d seen it before. A tiny part of him, something he didn’t want to acknowledge had a grandiose imagining of Bakura coming to his rescue like a knight on a white horse, riding in to save the day and save the damsel in distress.

But Ryou was no damsel, and Bakura wouldn’t help him now.

His feet clanged on the metal steps, his belt buckle clacked obnoxiously and stomach flipped as the plane started to thunder down the runway, thugs left behind on the tarmac.

Nobody could help him now.

* * *

 Fuck it. The room was trashed already, smashing the incessantly ticking clock wouldn’t make much of a difference. Cogs and bolts and hours of lost time shattered against the battered wardrobes, sending years and seconds and a million moments spinning into the atmosphere. But the poetry was lost on him, too focused in thinking about everything he had done wrong and everything that could still go wrong. He had showered in record time, dressed in the only clothing he could find spread out on the hotel room floor and had packed the meagre belongings they had remaining into a suitcase he had been unpicking the stitching of just a couple of days ago. The sight of the drooping inner lining made his stomach clench uncomfortably and he almost felt like he was going to be sick, but that could just be the long term effects of his probable concussion. His head was pounding and his face throbbed where a black eye was forming, he’d had worse injuries but what these represented, his weakness, his failure to protect that which was precious to him meant they hurt so much more, mentally as well as physically.

Empathy wasn’t his strong point at the best of times, so trying to envision how Ryou must feel right now just made his already buzzing head spin. Fear was obvious, he was scared of spiders for Ra’s sake, so being kidnapped by a sadistic, maniac of a Yami was surely enough to make him petrified, frozen still and useless with terror, unable to do anything that might help him.

But then, did Bakura really want him to fight back? Would he rather have Ryou run the risk of being injured or killed trying to escape, or know he was just submitting to whatever twisted desires Mariku had without even a thought of protecting himself? His hands burned with the desire to rip Mariku to shreds at even the thought of him putting his filthy, perverted hands on his Hikari.

Why hadn’t he realised how he felt before? He could have just said no to Mariku, stayed safe in Domino City and not put Ryou or himself in danger. He should have realised it was all just a scheme for Mariku to get his hands on his Hikari, as if he would ever enter into a bet he knew he might lose. It had been staring him in the face the entire time, the guilt he felt leading up to the trip should have been warning enough, but he had ignored it, pretended to be fine when every time Ryou touched him his skin prickled into ice and the need to come clean lingered on his tongue so temptingly.

The car should be here soon, to pick him up and take him to the private airport where Kaiba’s jet was waiting to zoom him back to Japan. The clock was gone and the room lapsed into abject silence. It felt wrong, rooms where Ryou had been should never be so sombre, they tinkled with the memory of his laughter and shattered at the thought of his tears. It tore into the Thief until he could feel his organs being shredded and he could stand it no more, slamming the door behind him.

More memories waited for him in the smoking shelter, a warm body under his arm, laughter and jokes, a moody pout that faded as Bakura kissed his hair. He was always so soft, his skin was like velvet and his hair was silken, his laugh was like sunshine on a river and his eyes were like drowning in sweet chocolate.

Oh, he was getting poetic again. His hands shook as he lit a cigarette and took a drag, too much, too deep, coughing into his hand harshly and paling as no scolding came even after he cleared his gunky lungs onto the pavement.

It was raining again. Thick drops falling from the sky to pound the floors and grey buildings. Everything was grey here now, where there had been colour it seemed to have faded away, like paint peeling on an old sign or a white sheet being pulled over a breathless face. His fingers trembled and the cigarette fell to the ground, red sparks exploding into the air and disappearing like mist. He made no move to save it or light a new one, just staring as the rain stained the stick brown and it stuck to the pavement stickily.

He swallowed hard as a car pulled up, barely hearing the driver, just letting him take his suitcase and climbing into the backseat, trying to hold in the growing desire to be sick or collapse. His head spun with the lights of London as they roared away, they were going too fast but he didn’t care, every time the needle ticked up on the speedometer was a second closer to saving Ryou. Rescuing, retrieving, whatever word he used it was the same. A reminder that he’d been torn away from him so cruelly, right before his eyes and without him being able to do a single fucking thing about it but watch.

He’d never been the kind to save people, hell, he was the one getting saved usually. When he got injured and Ryou bandaged him up despite the daily beatings he gave him, when he was stabbed and about to die, Ryou had saved him again, halo of white hair only making him smirk at how obedient he was. But then he had saved him a third time, after everything had changed and he had been thrown away like the trash he was, when Ryou finally grew a backbone and snapped Bakura’s in the same instant.

“I’ll see you in Hell, Bakura.”

It almost made him smile, as if Ryou would ever be going to Hell, he’d done his time living with Bakura. No, he was dead on course for Heaven, if such a thing even existed. But Bakura? He was certainly destined for the fiery pit, there was no way he could change how he’d lived his life so far. He deserved far worse punishment than anything on this world could grant him, he knew that, curling onto the seat of the car almost like a frightened child and trying to ignore the screams that echoed in his head. White hair blowing in the wind, wet cheeks and oversized pyjamas.

* * *

 “Sir, we’ve arrived.” The voice of the chauffeur woke him, and how he’d fallen asleep on the short journey he had no idea, but he feared his head injury had some effect on it, maybe he should have gotten some kind of medical help.

He stretched his aching limbs out and all but fell out of the car, momentarily dizzy, the drivers voice echoed in his ears but he couldn’t hear it properly, it was distorted and almost mechanical. He could feel a pair of strong arms propping him up and another voice joined the first shortly after. His vision came back slowly, interspersed with black blurry dots that clouded his vision and made everything spotty, the plane, Kaiba’s staff, the suitcase on the tarmac.

He felt sick. His legs weren’t co-operating and it was grudgingly that he allowed the rather burly man to assist him to the stairs of the plane. The climb up seemed to take forever, his head was throbbing and his hands sweated on the cold metal handrail as he raised his shaking legs to drag them up, one slow step at a time.

* * *

 The plane was luxurious, stupidly so, but he couldn’t bring himself to enjoy it, accepting the offer of a medic and undergoing a quick examination where a bright light was shone into his eyes, not improving his temporary blindness.

“Concussion.” The man spoke calmly, nodding as if he’d expected it, “you’ve suffered a head trauma?”

Bakura tried to roll his eyes, but the motion made the walls of the plane spin, so he quickly abandoned it. “You could say that.”

“Mm, well there’s not much I can do other than give you an ice-pack and some pain killers.” The man snapped his fingers as he spoke and another man appeared, how many of them were there on this bloody plane? Kaiba sure did live a luxurious life, by the looks of it he’d never have to lift a finger.

“I don’t need them.” Bakura tried to answer, but his voice slurred and all of a sudden there were four men where there’d been two, blinking slowly and frowning as the duplicates merged so there were two once more.

“I’m not asking.”

Bakura made a mental note to inform Kaiba that his staff could do with being a little more polite, but the idea faded from his brain a moment later as a pleasantly cool ice pack was pressed gently to his head, almost groaning at how good it felt.

“Take these,” tablets were offered to him, four of them, round and white, along with a glass of water. He swallowed them down grudgingly, only realising afterwards, when his eyes were already growing heavy under what he knew were the effects of sleeping tablets, that he hadn’t asked what they were.

He really was useless without Ryou.

* * *

 Kaiba led them through the hallways of the mansion, a labyrinthine system of passages and door after identical door leading to a million rooms all empty but with a specific use, how he didn’t get lost Joey didn’t know. They ended up in the East wing, the only one occupied by Mokuba and Kaiba, climbing the large staircase that swept up from the majestic entrance way up to a balcony with a large window looking out on the ornamental garden and orchard of cherry blossom trees. They took a left at the top, heading down a dimly lit corridor where Joey could name the rooms and their contents, Kaiba’s huge office on the left, Mokuba’s entertainment room on the right, next to his bedroom. The last door on the corridor was Kaiba’s bedroom, and this is where he led them, unlocking the door with the key that rested permanently around his neck along with the locket Joey knew contained a picture of Mokuba.

His room was dark, light of the moon not quite reaching into the space through the large windows, his four poster bed was messy and the sheets rumpled, something he only ever allowed when Joey stayed over, something which had been happening more often lately. The icy blue walls made it feel cold and lonely, lack of decoration or personal artefacts making the room seem like it wasn’t lived in, an utter lack of personality to it except the artwork of the Blue Eyes White Dragon that hung over the white marble fireplace. It always made Joey feel kind of sad, imaging the CEO returning to this unfriendly room after an exhausting day, having to fall into the gigantic bed alone and hide himself behind the drapes of the frame, blocking out the world outside. His room was of stark opposition to Joey’s, where duel monsters cards lay spread about and posters for bands and films littered the walls, his treasured possessions, framed photographs of his family and friends filled one wall, blu-tacked up messily.

Kaiba’s room had none of this, he was an orphan, Joey knew that, and he didn’t like photographs much, despite the thousands of them the paparazzi had taken over the years, the only one in his room an extremely old image of him and Mokuba, the smaller boy on his shoulders and beaming into the camera. Kaiba didn’t smile in photographs.

But he couldn’t take the emptiness of the room in, chest crushed with worry for Ryou, wondering where he was, if he was okay, whether they’d find him. His cheerful disposition was nowhere to be found as he heard the door shutting and locking behind them, fingers twisting nervously over his stomach. He knew Kaiba was powerful, had just seen first-hand how many people he had authority over, people who would obey his commands unthinkingly and risk their lives for him. But could they really find Ryou and get him back? There were a hundred different ways he could enter the country, at one of the 98 airports, or on a boat into a port or onto a random beach. He might not even be being brought back to Japan, he could be taken anywhere in the world and even then Kaiba’s influence wouldn’t be able to do much but prompt a large scale search that would soon be abandoned. Everyone forgot missing people eventually, Joey had seen it on the news, a boy taken while on holiday, his parents still searching twenty years later. Search being stopped as leads dried out and hope began to fade.

Would not knowing be worse than finding a body? He swallowed thickly and jumped when an arm snuck around his waist, tall body behind him shifting to rest his chin on Joey’s shoulder.

“You okay, pup?” His voice was soft, one of his two tones, the other was his ‘holier-than-thou’ voice, the one he always used when duelling and when he used to tease Joey in school, calling him a mutt and making various other dog noises. But now he used the same voice he did for Mokuba, a sort of fond tone that always made Joey feel special just by being able to hear it.

He let a sigh escape him, ribs rising and falling with the heaviness of his breath, twisting his fingers to lace with Kaiba’s and chewing his inner lip. “I’m worried ‘bout him.”

“Ryou?”

“Both of ‘em.” He replied honestly, Bakura had been in a state unlike Joey had ever known when he rang, on the verge of tears, hyperventilating and apparently injured, it had been almost scary, hearing someone so tough break apart like that. What would happen to him if they didn’t manage to rescue Ryou, he didn’t even want to imagine.

“Mm,” Kaiba’s voice was low, a puff of air against his neck. “I’ll do my best to find him.”

“But what if… What if you can’t?” He didn’t want to doubt Seto, he was supposed to trust him after all, but no amount of influence or money could find somebody if their kidnappers didn’t want them to be found.

“Don’t think like that, pup. I… I know you’re scared, but I’ve got men watching the airports around London, and the four airports nearest to Domino.” He released his hold on Joey, turning him round so he could see him, tilting his chin up with a finger and forcing him to meet his eyes. “I am going to do everything I can to find your friend, okay?”

His voice was strong and confident, and it lifted some of the fear off Joey’s shoulders, allowing him a small smile and a nod, shuffling forwards to wrap his arms around his cold hearted CEO and be enveloped in a hug.

Kaiba closed his eyes, silently gathering himself and trying to get his emotions under control, he was worried for Joey, he was obviously upset and worried, and if finding Ryou would fix that then he’d go to the ends of the earth, literally. He planted a lingering kiss on his blonde strands of hair, inhaling his familiar smell of motor oil and something comforting he could never quite place, placing his faith in his team and knowing he had to stay strong and firm, act as a pillar for Joey, and he supposed Bakura, to lean on.

* * *

“There is a chance the hostage will try to make contact, if he does so you must ignore him, do not let on who you are or that there is a rescue plan, if his captors find out it may make the situation worse.”Major Hayashi Kiatsu’s voice boomed through the video link system in the fleet of cars and vans that had just left the Kaiba Mansion.

The rush to get armed and prepared had taken less than twenty minutes and by the time Kaiba had finished comforting Joey they were ready to move with ‘operation lion and lamb.’

The men listened with full attention even as the movements of the cars made them sway where they sat, dressed in civilian clothing and covered in concealed weaponry, guns, Tasers and for some bizarre reason, smoke bombs and grenades.

“The hostage may also try to escape, in this situation, and this situation only may you make contact with the hostage to ensure his safety. These men are dangerous, they are clever and they are armed, as such, in the event of a significant risk to the hostage’s safety, you may shoot to kill.”

Joey felt his hands go sweaty, he felt sick and even Seto’s hand on his knee couldn’t stop its anxious bouncing against the floor of the taxi they’d elected to travel in, knowing that his usual limousine would only draw attention and that was the last thing they wanted in a covert operation like this. How Seto managed to remain so stoic and unruffled in situations like this had always been a great wonder of Joey’s, he felt himself cracking up with worry while Kaiba sat beside him straight-backed and emotionless.

“Wh-“ His throat was dry and he had to cough to clear it. “What happens if someone does get… killed?”

“Well, it probably won’t come to that. But we outnumber them, we could easily overpower them. Then I suppose we’d have no choice but to involve the police. They’d get dragged off to jail and the person who ‘shot to kill’, would be let off free, it would be self-defence.” Joey looked uncertain about this, and Kaiba wondered when exactly the ‘shoot to kill’ order had stopped bothering him. “He’s a well know, highly wanted international criminal, nobody is going to upset if he’s killed. Hell, they’ll probably be thrilled someone’s finally taken care of him for them.”

“Hm,” Joey’s answer wasn’t exactly encouraging, but Kaiba tried to pretend it had been, gazing out of the tinted windows at the lights of the airport they were approaching.

“We’re nearly there now.” He ended up saying, because what else was there to say? He could make no promises without the risk of breaking them, and he had no intention of doing that. He couldn’t be certain Ryou would be being brought into this airport, there was a chance he was in another country, or hadn’t been transported at all yet, or had already landed. They could have disguised him well enough for him to just walk past them, they would have a million tricks to avoid getting caught and would no doubt be utilising all of them to pull this off.

The screen which had previously turned black flickered back on, the Major’s face once again broadcasted amongst the 50 man strong force, instructing them as they began to arrive.

“Stag party group enter from terminal B, honeymoon couple, wait five then enter terminal A.”

“Seto,” Joey asked, confusion lacing his voice as he listened to the Major’s continued orders and instructions, naming groups like ‘businessman,’ ‘girls holiday’ and, weirdest of all ‘mourning brothers.’

“Mm?”

“I thought your security force was all male.”

“It is, we got some of the kitchen staff and maids to act in place of actual female bodyguards, it’s more realistic that way because they don’t really know what’s going on. Plus, if too many men arrive at once it might clue Mariku and his men into the fact that something’s wrong and we can’t risk that.”

“Oh,” Joey breathed, and really, what else could he say?

* * *

 “Bakura’s flight should arrive in twenty minutes, I’ve checked with international arrivals and all flights from the UK don’t arrive for at least an hour afterwards, so we don’t have to worry about them overlapping. The only real problem is if it’s a private plane, but the staff here know about the situation and they said if necessary they’ll keep it on the runway for as long as possible.” Kaiba didn’t even want to imagine what might happen if Ryou and Bakura arrived in sync, his white coat wasn’t exactly made for blood stains, neither was his reputation, or his pup’s eyes, for that matter. If there had to be violence he’d rather it be hidden from his boyfriend, gang background, physical abuse or whatever, he knew that was nothing compared to seeing somebody you love gunned down, slaughtered before your eyes.

“Are we going to meet him?” Joey asked, he was sick of waiting now, tired of the gnawing terror in his stomach and the fear that filled his head, making it hard to take in or think of anything else but whether Ryou was safe and most importantly, still alive.

“No, my men on the plane will bring him to us, I can’t risk being seen as involved with this in any way, if the media get hold of it they’ll go mad.” This was more important than his reputation, deep inside he knew that was what Joey was thinking, but he’d be damned if he’d let some delusional Ancient Egyptian Tomb Robber and his ‘reincarnation’ or some such bullshit ruined everything he worked for. “If they link me to Bakura, Mariku will link me to him and it might destroy any chance we have of finding Ryou.”

Joey nodded, wiping at his eyes fiercely, trying to hide the fact that they had been randomly ‘watering’ since they arrived at the airport, the fact that they still had to wait for either of the white haired boys to arrive was too much.

“How come Ryou hasn’t arrived yet, I thought Bakura said they kidnapped him hours ago?” Joey sniffed, not understanding what was going on made it so much harder, if he only understood the plan better, had an analytical mind like Kaiba instead of an emotional one, maybe he’d be less…. Useless.

“Well, hopefully they just decided to stay longer in England for some reason. Maybe to throw Bakura off if he tried to immediately follow him, they didn’t know how long he’d stay unconscious after all. For all they knew he woke up ten minutes after they left and jumped on the first plane here. Worst case scenario… Well, let’s not think about that until all our options here have been exhausted. One of my staff reported seeing a white haired boy who seemed to match the description at a private airfield, but he couldn’t get a good enough look to confirm if it was him.”

So he might have been sighted, somebody might have seen Ryou, alive and as safe as he could be in his situation, getting on a private plane heading to a mystery location with a murderous psychopath. He wasn’t sure if he was comforted or not.

“I know this is difficult, pup, but there’s not much we can do but stay hidden until Bakura arrives. Then we can gather more information and we can start to do this whole thing properly.”

“Mm, I know. It’s jus’ hard, not knowin’, ya know?”

Kaiba couldn’t answer, because he didn’t know. When his parents had died, it had been instant and officially announced hours later. There had never been any doubt, never been any chance that they might be okay despite everything, that there may be some miracle and they’d come back to life again. The only thing he could compare it to was when Mokuba was kidnapped, if Joey felt anything like that, he’d do anything to make him feel better. To anyone else he was just a mutt with no qualifications and a dumb accent, but he was Kaiba’s mutt with no qualifications and a dumb accent, and that was all that mattered to him. Stroking fingers through blonde hair when his head fell into his lap, offering what comfort he could, thinking just how different things would have been for him if he’d had this when he’d needed it.

* * *

 The cabin staff didn’t even bother telling him not to stand up or undo his seatbelt until they had stopped fully, knowing he was too anxious to listen, just wanting to get off the plane and into the same country as Ryou. How much Kaiba had told them, he wasn’t sure, but they were certainly remarkably kind even after he yelled at them for essentially drugging him, offering him orange juice to up his low blood sugar levels and encouraging him to at least nibble on a sandwich, despite his non-existent appetite.

He practically fell down the stairs onto the tarmac, catching himself before he crashed headfirst into a man who announced himself as Kaiba’s head of security and led him inside the terminal building.

Kaiba’s arm round Joey’s waist rapidly withdrew as the Thief all but ran through the door, eyes wide with need to know what was happening, was he safe? Did they manage to free him?

“Where is he? Did you find him?” He demanded instantly, not bothering with any polite greetings or thanks, they were hardly necessary in such a time constrained case.

“We don’t know, we haven’t seen him yet.” Joey was biting his lip anxiously, skin worn red and sore where he had constantly worried at it in lieu of something else to do to fill the painfully long time until something actually happened.

“I assume you understand the sensitivity of this situation?” That was the first thing Kaiba said to him, ignoring the embarrassing redness of his eyes and going straight into asshole holier-than-thou CEO mode. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, of course he understood the situation, it was his fucking situation! He was the dumb shit who had caused it.

“Yes.” He managed to growl out, his head still wasn’t one hundred percent and a stabbing pain kept shooting through his ribs.

“Good, then you understand that even if you see Ryou, here at the airport, you cannot approach him under any circumstances.”

Bakura froze, glaring at Kaiba with such vehemence that both Joey and his head of security took a step back, both actively balking at his murderous expression. “What?”

“If you see him, make a solo attempt to recover him, how do you think that will end, Thief?”

It was the condescending was he said his name that made him snap, preparing to lunge forwards until Kaiba’s voice rose, cutting through the fear and disgust and horror that swam through his brain and rendering them silent, if only for a moment.

“You will die! They will shoot you through the skull as easily as you’d rip the head off a jelly baby.” It was a strange comparison, but Bakura was in no state to comment on Kaiba’s use of similes, too busy having a moment of painful clarification. “You will die, and then what will happen to Ryou, hm? What will happen?”

“I don’t know!” He scowled back, how was Kaiba still managing to be a dick while simultaneously helping him?

“Exactly. They will move him elsewhere immediately, somewhere even I can’t track him. With nobody to rescue him, anything could happen to him. Do you really want to risk that?” The CEO’s voice almost softened as he finished speaking, although Joey’s hand on his arm probably had something to do with it.

Bakura took a deep breath, biting his lip against angry tears that threatened to build in his eyes, remembering who he was. He was Yami fucking Bakura, Thief King of Kul Elna, who had been through massacres, escaped from prisons, been stabbed twice, nearly died twice and had come through it all with his head held high and fucking proud.

“No. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just… Tell me what to do.” Following orders had never been something he was good at, but he would try his very best, although a part of him wasn’t certain how well he’d be able to restrain himself if he did see Ryou. He’d just have to try and trust in his self-control, weak though it had been lately.

“Wait, patiently and quietly. The next private flight from England arrives in,” he flicked his sleeve up, checking an expensive looking watch. “Seven minutes according the flight controller. It is our belief he will be on board.”

Seven minutes, just seven minutes and his Hikari might be in the same country as him again, he couldn’t understand the pain in his chest, was it simply due to the distance? Or was it something more he couldn’t identify yet? He didn’t know, but he didn’t like it, it felt like a part of him was missing, but maybe this always happened when a Yami and a Hikari separated, it wasn’t exactly like there was anyone he could ask. Mariku and Marik didn’t count as official Yami and Hikari, and Yugi was never away from the Pharaoh.

He somehow felt like he’d know when Ryou was near, like they had some bizarre twin telepathy that would make his hair stand up on end or his ears prick up or something stupid when he entered the airport. If they hadn’t both closed off their mind links maybe that could help in finding him, but they’d both decided it was better not to keep them open. Maybe if Bakura had objected more strongly this wouldn’t have happened, Ryou would have seen his plan and given him a flat no, he would have refused and none of this living nightmare would be happening.

* * *

"Mr. Kaiba, the plane has landed.”

Bakura leapt to his feet like a Russian gymnast, or somebody else equally fast and fluid, eyes scanning the one-way glass in the room they were in, some kind of interrogation room apparently, the stainless steel table proving that.

“They will be disembarking in moments and entering through this terminal. It is estimated that there are three on-board, and there is a group of four waiting who have been linked with Mariku.”

“Thank you, Major.” Kaiba nodded, “prepare the trackers.”

“Yes, Sir.” He left the room a second later, unlocked door giving Bakura a crazy idea that he couldn’t, wouldn’t let himself listen to. It was dangerous. He had to remember Kaiba’s words, if he died, Ryou was helpless, and he knew he could never rest easy knowing Ryou was in danger somewhere, it would haunt him forever, Hell itself would be nothing in comparison.

“Bakura.” Joey was by his side, a steady warmth just to his left, stood strong and proud despite the dried tear tracks on his cheeks and clenched fists shaking at his sides. He was managing, looking like a pillar of strength, able to obey orders, to restrain himself from rushing to his friend, able to trust in Kaiba’s abilities to track him down later. But Bakura couldn’t do that. The breath rushed out of his lungs as the sliding doors to the terminal opened, at the same time, Kaiba’s collar walkie-talkie, and could he be more ridiculous?, chirped out, voice of one of his many minions carrying through.

“Targets confirmed, Ryou Bakura, Mariku. Targets are entering the building. There is another with them and four are confirmed to be waiting to meet them. All men action stations. Go go go.”

His lungs were tight and even Joey’s hand on his shoulder couldn’t help ground him, he felt otherworldly, like he could just float out of the room and back to a time where he and Ryou were safe together. Snoozing on the couch in front of a half watched film, or sharing takeaway and fighting over the last takoyaki even though Bakura always gave it to Ryou in the end.

White filled his vision and for a moment he thought he’d passed out again, head screaming and spinning and twisting twisting like his hand in his jeans as his eyes widened and-

“Ry…” Joey’s voice whispered from beside him, swallowing loudly in the silent room and grinding his teeth so hard Bakura could hear it, controlling himself, keeping to the plan and not losing control.

But oh God he was right there, one sheet of glass dividing them. He looked so small, flanked by the two huge men on either side, walking forwards in a straight line, not looking anywhere but forwards, like he’d been threatened to do so. His expression was scared and lost, like a child separated from their parents in the supermarket and not knowing what to do but stay where they were and hope help would come.

He wasn’t breathing properly, he was sure of that, lungs tight and eyes burning, hands aching to touch him again, to whisk him away from the men who wanted to hurt him and to embrace him softly, like he fucking deserved. His control of everything was slipping, thoughts tumbling and whirling too madly for him to keep them in, slipping past his internal wall and oh God no please don’t-

Ryou’s head jerked suddenly, before turning slowly to face the room, looking like nothing to him but staring straight at Bakura, and oh Ra no he had heard him please no not this he couldn’t control himself if he-

There was a flash of emotion and his head erupted, and it was

> **FEAR HELP SCARED LOST HURT DESPAIR HELP PLEASE SOMEONE NO SCARED FEAR ESCAPE WHERE STOP WHY**

And oh there were tears leaking down his face that he hadn’t noticed, cold on his cheeks as his mouth hung open wide, too petrified to do anything but stare as Mariku noticed his diverted gaze, gripping his arm and twisting it until he looked at the ground again. But he had to hold it in even though he hadn’t breathed in about five minutes and how was he still upright and Ryou’s mind link was the most horrifying thing he’d ever experienced in his whole life and he had caused it but he could make it right he could. But shit things were escaping again, regret and sorrow and so much fear it choked him, sitting on his windpipe and crushing it far more than Mariku’s minions had.

“Contact with second group established. Nearby groups, gather intelligence but remain covert. Do not make contact, repeat, do not make contact.”

The second group were as intimidating as the first, smiling and hugging Mariku and the other as they tried to act like a family reunited again, a sweet airport image to anyone who saw it, but it made sick rise in Bakura’s mouth.

“Targets approaching terminal exit, traffic warden in position, smokers, tailers, you know your orders.” The walkie-talkie wouldn’t shut up, it was tearing into Bakura’s ears, making blood trickle down his face but when he went to wipe it away it wasn’t there. His eyes were locked onto Ryou and oh how had he done this to him how could he have done it?

In the split second before the terminal doors slid open, everything happened at once, Bakura’s thought’s broke loose again, flying across the painfully small place and shooting straight into Ryou’s head. He didn’t hesitate to turn this time, eyes scanning the area it had come from desperately while his captors were momentarily distracted. The second his arm was grabbed everything exploded.

> **BAKURA PLEASE HELP ME PLEASE KURA!!!**

It was screaming and crying and pleading all rolled into one and he couldn’t stand it he couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t. His hands were shaking and they wouldn’t stop and his breathing was back but it was too fast and he had to do something or he’d be gone forever and oh Ra he had to try.

“RYOU!!” The scream that escaped his lips didn’t belong to him, the legs that sprinted across the room weren’t his and the hand that grabbed the handle and yanked it open wasn’t part of his. All he could hear was Ryou’s voice  **BAKURA PLEASE HELP ME PLEASE KURA!!!** And he was coming he was coming Ryou just wait he’s on his way he’ll save you he’ll fix everything. The hand over his mouth wasn’t his and the hands grabbing his legs weren’t his either, kicking out and biting hard into the hand that covered his mouth still screaming even though the door had shut the moment he opened it and how had it done that? The blood in his mouth wasn’t his and he spat it out, if his mouth was full of blood how could he make Ryou hear him? He couldn’t save him if he didn’t know he was there. He kicked out hard and met something solid, noises distant and hazy around him, scrambling up and reaching for the door again he needed to go he needed to go he **HELP ME** But there was somebody in front of him and they twisted him over onto his back, and he scratched and clawed and why didn’t they understand? He had to save Ryou, he was the only one who could, he was the one he needed, the one he screamed for **PLEASE KURA!!!** There was somebody sat on him, straddling his waist and he only saw a flash of white and- Ryou?

As he felt his consciousness slipping away again, he felt the last of his hope leave him, scattered to the winds blowing outside this godforsaken airport, then everything was black.

* * *

 

It was the second time he’d been bundled into a car in less than twenty four hours, and he wasn’t exactly thrilled the first time. Closing his eyes against the rocking motion of the car and willing himself not to cry. Bakura would rescue him. He would. He would he would he would. He couldn’t let himself think about what would happen if he didn’t. But he had heard him, heard his voice loud and clear through the mind link, words escaping like they’d broken free, he was close, he knew he was. Or was he in such shock he was imagining it?

> _Ryou coming rescue ry sorry oh god ryou oh god oh fuck no please no no no_

But no, he’d recognise that anywhere, the swearing and the apologies and curses and hate twisting around each other like snakes, uncontrolled and wild in his panic. But he tried to pretend  he hadn’t heard anything as the car drove somewhere he didn’t know, blinking out hot, worthless tears. Bakura wasn’t coming for him, he didn’t care he was gone, he had arranged this all. But then, why did it hurt so much?

* * *

 

Bakura came to woozily, he had been unconscious far more in the past 24 hours than he would have liked, head spinning madly and eyes unfocused and blurry, yellow mop in front of his eyes refusing to clear into an actual image.

“Bakura?” That annoying accent… He recognised it, Joey?

He sat up instantly, everything rushing back to him, the reason he was unconscious, the person who had punched him out. The person who was stood across the room as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t just let Ryou go without so much as a flicker of emotion on his rich, asshole face.

“You fucking bastard!” He reached Kaiba before his security had a chance to even move, fist smashing into the side of his face and knocking out his pretentious Bluetooth earpiece. It seemed he’d expected the blow, barely making a noise except a low grunt, recovering alarmingly fast and waving his security down as they moved to restrain him. “You let him go! You just fucking let him go!”

“I had men track their car, we know his location.” Kaiba answered immediately, not reacting to his violent outburst even as he pressed his red cheek gently, seeming as composed as ever, well befitting his powerful position as CEO of one of Japan’s largest and most well regarded companies.

Bakura’s anger faded within seconds, almost regretting his actions, but figuring Kaiba had deserved a punch for a while, better now than never. “Well then we have to go! Come on!” Bakura’s voice was desperate, legs strong under him once more and gesturing wildly with his arms.

“You have a concussion, you’re not going anywhere.” Kaiba announced, standing too, arms crossed over his chest and an authoritative look on his face that the Thief really didn’t appreciate.

“But he’s in danger! Do you even know what Mariku’s capable of?” Oh fuck, the images were flashing through his brain again, Ryou screaming as his vision blacked out, Ryou, backed into a corner and crying as a figure approached him. Ryou, with empty eyes and wounds all over his body, white hair matted red and blood trickling down his thighs.

“Do you even know who you’re talking to?” The same regal air, like he was better than everyone else just because he had money and was more intelligent than the average pond scum resident of Domino City.

“Someone who’s staff drugged me on the fucking plane.” Bakura glared, not caring that he was being ungrateful for Kaiba’s help so far, he wanted Ryou back now, and fuck whatever plan the billionaire might have planned.

“Seto!” Joey objected, face shocked as he berated his boyfriend, who sent a less than pleasant scowl at the Thief before turning to placate his mutt.

“Just sleeping tablets pup, it was for his own good.” The answer seemed to placate Joey, who nodded, but shrugged in apology when Kaiba turned away anyway. “Mariku Ishtar, born in Egypt, known drug lord and seller of illegal, black market goods, specialising in the smuggling of cocaine between Japan and the UK.”

The glare Kaiba sent him wasn’t anywhere near as powerful as the look Joey did, hazel eyes showing disappointment and a sort of childish confusion that made Bakura feel about a foot tall.

“I’m sure you know what else he specialises in?” Kaiba’s voice was challenging now and Bakura scowled at him with full force, not caring how much help he might be getting. Kaiba was, and always would be, an enormous asshole, no amount of assistance would change that.

“Enlighten me.” He was aware that with every sentence Ryou was more and more likely to be hurt or injured, it made his skin crawl.

“Human trafficking.”

The word made Bakura’s eyes flash up to meet the CEO’s, sinking feeling in his gut as he absorbed the words and their meaning. Oh fuck, he really did choose his acquaintances badly didn’t he? His breath caught in his throat and he felt dizzy again, though this time it wasn’t the concussion.

Kaiba’s voice softened as he spoke, “mainly for the international sex trade. I’m sorry, Bakura, but if that’s the case there’s a chance even I won’t be able to help.”

“No.” Bakura’s answer came immediately, not even sure what he was disagreeing with. The idea that Mariku did something like that didn’t really shock him, but Ryou being involved in that, being shipped abroad to be sold as some kind of disgusting sex toy, to be treated like less than a human. “No.”

“Bakura…” Joey’s voice was nervous and his hand shook as Kaiba took it in his, face remaining unchanged even as he rubbed his thumb over it soothingly. Huh, even the cold hearted CEO had a soft side.

“No. He wouldn’t. Not to Ryou.” Joey looked like he was in pain, watching Bakura as he refused to accept the most possible truth, seeing someone he considered a friend so deep in denial. “He’s always… Liked him. He wouldn’t.”

He could feel his face twist into a grimace as he spoke, remembering all the things Mariku used to do to make his desires known, every croon and stupid pastry related nickname ringing in his ears. His final demand in their deal, ‘if you fail, if the deal fails, Ryou is mine, Thief.’

“He’d want him for himself.” His voice was certain, stubborn and unwavering as he spoke, standing up straighter, certain that Mariku wouldn’t be selling Ryou to anyone, for any amount of money.

“How d’ya know?” Joey spoke up again, eyes curious even with the black bags under them.

“It was part of our deal.” He spat, glaring at a patch of frayed carpet to his left.

“What?!” Kaiba snapped, teeth bared and looking angry for the first time since Bakura had known him, outrage poured off him in swathes and Joey’s eyes were wide and horrified. “You agreed to this?”

“No! Of course I fucking didn’t!” He growled back, what kind of scum did they think he was? “I agreed to the deal then he… Added it.”

“Added what?” Kaiba’s voice was icy cold and it almost made Bakura shiver, demanding an answer and showing he wouldn’t accept anything but the truth. He regarded the Thief like he was a cockroach he couldn’t wait to grind into the floor, Bakura couldn’t help but agree.

“He said that if I failed the job, he’d take Ryou.” Oh fuck, why hadn’t he backed out then? Why had he let his pride rule him and put his Hikari on the line? “I know how it sounds, okay? I know I’m a piece of shit.”

There was silence as Kaiba digested his words, Joey looked like he was going to cry and Bakura felt like scum. No, worse than scum, whatever that was.

“Why should I help you?”

“Seto!” Joey sounded horrified, yanking his hand out of his boyfriends grip to stare at him incredulously, tears pooling in his eyes and threatening to spill out. Bakura was almost jealous that he could be so open with his emotions, pretty sure that if he was less stubborn he’d be curled up in a corner sobbing. “What do you mean? We have to help him!”

“Quiet, pup.” A flash of pain crossed Joey’s face as Seto spoke sternly, eyes focused on Bakura so hard he felt like they could see right into his soul. Though it was probably a good thing they couldn’t, nobody should have to gaze on something so foul. “I want to hear his reason.”

“It’s not like I asked for your help, Kaiba.” He spat the name, teeth clenched and hurting his jaw, fighting the urge to punch him in the face, he didn’t think Joey or his bodyguards would appreciate it. “You chose to be here.”

“No, you asked Joey for help. We’re kind of a package deal.” He tried to ignore the bright red shade of Joey’s face as he continued, but Bakura noticed the amused smirk on his face as he shot a glance his way. “I didn’t have much choice.”

Bakura scoffed incredulously. Was Kaiba being serious? Was he really this shitty a person? Would he refuse to help if Bakura didn’t give a good enough reason? Did he even have a reason that wasn’t selfish, was this all just to clear his conscience?

“I just… I need him back.” He ran a hand through his hair, he didn’t know how to explain the pain in his chest since Ryou had been torn away from him, like a part of him was missing, and not just in the Yami Hikari way. He was exhausted, in pain and Ryou was miles away with a sadistic maniac who was probably hurting him and he couldn’t fucking stand knowing it was his fault. He couldn’t stand being so useless once again, to know he had hurt Ryou again, after promising himself he never would again.

“Why?” Kaiba’s question was the last straw, he snapped, he was fucking sick and tired of always being the bad guy. Then, when he’d finally settled down into an almost normal, pleasant life with Ryou, he’d just had to take one last job, and he’d fucked everything up again and goddamnit it he’d give anything to have Ryou back right now.

“Because I fucking love him, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear you sadistic fuck?”

The CEO’s face was genuinely surprised, brown eyebrows raised over an almost smug smile, though his brown eyes regarded Bakura almost proudly. “Well it’s not what I expected, but it’ll do.”

Bakura didn’t even dare look at Joey, the squeak that left him when he admitted his feelings for Ryou was embarrassing enough, let alone his clasped hands and positively radiant smile. Instead turning to shake his head almost disbelievingly at Kaiba.

“You’re such a prick.”

Kaiba just smiled, looking thoroughly amused, “likewise. Now come on, I need to fill you in on the plan.”

Oh, so there was a plan, which was mildly reassuring at least, though Bakura couldn’t quite lift the weight in his chest as he followed Kaiba and his stupidly fluttering trench coat out to his limousine and presumably to his mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a theory for how it's all going to go down? Want to make a suggestion for future chapters? Or just want to fangirl over anime with me? motorcycle-chan.tumblr.com


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE!!! Genuinely though, I am sorry this took so long, I know a few of you have been waiting patiently so thank you for that! Life got a little on top of me, but I have the next two chapters partially written so the next should be up before Christmas provided nothing goes wrong!  
> Thank you for sticking around despite my long absences and I hope you enjoy this long awaited chapter!
> 
> \---------
> 
> LAST CHAPTER- Ryou is smuggled into the UK under the clutches of Mariku and his minions. Bakura, with the help of Joey and Kaiba seeks to intercept them at the airport and track his location. The mind link rears it's head again and Bakura has to be subdued by the billionaire, love is confessed and Kaiba grudgingly agrees to stage a daring rescue mission.  
> Ryou slips out of their grasps and is headed to a mystery location, lost, scared and alone.  
> With Ryou out of his sight and Kaiba being unreasonable, how will Bakura cope with this sudden loss?

 “Holy fucking shit…”

“Are you always this eloquent?” Kaiba’s voice was almost impressed at the sheer amount of cursing Bakura could fit into ordinary speech, watching with practiced disinterest as the armoured car drove slowly up the long drive.

“More, normally.” He replied, trying to hide the impatient twitching of his fingers, Ryou’s frightened cries still screaming through in his brain in a way that made it hard to concentrate on anything, let alone being witty.

“I thought it was pretty impressive too, first time I seen it,” Joey remarked, trying to offer him a reassuring smile that didn’t do much to comfort either of them, lips wobbling and sinking into a straight line a second later. “He blindfolded me too.”

“My security force trains here,” Kaiba explained, maybe hoping that a distraction would help to settle their frayed nerves, though his icy blue eyes were locked on the nervous twitching of Bakura’s fingers. “It’s top secret of course.”

By the time the car rolled to a gentle stop and the chauffeur, because of course Seto had a fucking chauffeur, opened the door, they were sat in stony silence again, climbing out silently and following Kaiba to the huge, almost intimidating, metal door. It opened without him even needing to knock, and Bakura supposed him carrying a key would be a foolish thing to do, somehow managing to not be quite as amazed by the dingy interior.

The Kaiba security force headquarters were actually pretty depressing, they were as cold and dark as the mansion, and though spotlessly clean they had the atmosphere of somewhere uninhabited, like an abandoned bunker from a war long since ended, a relic of the past. Kaiba greeted a soldier, or something similar, coldly but politely, enquiring as to the location of General Hayashi and the rest of the security force.

Bakura couldn’t hear the answer, and the longer he didn’t know what was going on, the faster his anxiety rose, blood thumping in his ears and driving him crazy, grey and green military colour scheme making him feel cornered. Nobody was talking to him, and he needed to be in control, to understand what was happening and when, to know if Ryou’s location had been tracked. He needed to know the fucking plan, did they even have one?

“They’re on level seven,” He was back a second later, staying strong and in control even while Joey shook and Bakura fell into an icy state of shock, not even questioning that the building only had one storey and just blindly following both Kaiba and Joey to an elevator.

* * *

 

 

Bakura didn’t know why he’d been surprised, because of course the majority of this sprawling complex would be underground, elevator traveling downwards silently, well-oiled like the rest of Kaiba’s kingdom, he felt like a spot of rust on the flawless panelled walls. He knew the armed soldiers were giving him strange looks, presumably wondering if he was the one who had caused this sudden state of emergency, if he was the one who had let his friend get kidnapped by a trafficking gang. If he was the low down, good for nothing drug dealer who only caused them trouble and now had come, grovelling to Kaiba’s feel in hope of a favour that he had for some unknown reason, agreed to.

To be honest, it wouldn’t be the worst thing somebody had thought of him, he just hated to think that Ryou might be thinking the same, cursing him for his stupidity and his lies and his huge, overwhelming betrayal. He felt sick, and it wasn’t to do with the rapid downwards movement or the feeling of levels of concrete and steel crushing down upon him, no, his conscience had finally reared its head, and fuck, it was an ugly thing.

But then the movement ceased and he was almost pushed out, a gun against his back and he would have turned to growl in any other situation but now he was so incredibly overwhelmed that he barely registered the cold metal against his spine. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d had a gun pointed at him anyway, so he couldn’t bring himself to be too bothered, besides, maybe if they shot him it’d be easier for everyone, Kaiba and Joey could rescue Ryou and he wouldn’t have to try and beg for an apology.

Then they rounded another corner of nondescript hallway, lit by harsh neon lights that seemed to bathe everything in an unnervingly blue light, Kaiba was pressing some code into a door and his head was roughly forced away just in case he decided to watch. Yanking himself free in seconds but looking at the ground obediently anyway because he didn’t care about a single fucking thing right now but getting Ryou back, finding out if he was safe and making a plan to retrieve him as soon as possible.

The door slid open like something out of a space movie and they walked into what could only be described as Kaiba’s military HQ, there were banks of sophisticated looking computers displaying fuck knew what, some kind of conferencing table was in the middle of the room. There were papers littering its top and some kind of scale diagram of some type of house, one member of the team seemingly instructing the others on how to gain access, pointing out windows, doors, secret crawl spaces. It was noisy, and bustling, and far busier than Bakura’s distracted gaze could take in, eyes zeroing in onto the pictures displayed on the huge screens that took up half the room. One he recognised from the drafting table, it was the same house, image flickering occasionally as if the camera used wasn’t very good, then the other images he expected, with vital statistics underneath like criminals. Mariku on one side, and Ryou on the other, one picture snapped as he climbed into a car, looking around cautiously as if afraid of being seen, the other an amusing snap of a school boy, fingers raised in a cheeky peace sign and grinning wide at the camera.

It made his heart hurt and he looked away as fast as he could, movement not missed by Joey, who lingered at his side as Kaiba strode purposefully across the room for whatever reason, hand squeezing his shoulder a second later offering no comfort whatsoever, though he supposed a kinder hearted person would have realised it was a nice gesture. But what were gestures now, other than useless? They wouldn’t bring Ryou back any faster, only Kaiba could do that, pushing off his seemingly assigned handler a second later and striding across the room, noticing the eyes lift from the computers to track his movements, maybe associating him with the white haired face that burned into their eyes.

“Yes… How soon?” He couldn’t hear everything they were saying, almost whispering, voices low amongst the hubbub of activity, somebody rushing past with what looked like a blueprint and a highlighter in their mouth, someone else with a file simply entitled ‘confidential’.  “Mm, I understand. Thank you, Major.”

Then he turned and his icy blue eyes gave no note to is presence, not even jumping at seeing him suddenly in his personal space, just blinking at him and turning to check where Joey was before striding off and waving them to follow him to the other side of the room. There was a set of small metal stairs leading up to a balcony that ran round half of the room, floor made of diamond patterned metal and clanging under their feet as they climbed it silently. There was another metal door, another code programmed in, hidden by Kaiba’s slim back, then the sound of it swooshing open and they stepped through, almost getting hit in the ankles by it.

The silence pressed in suddenly after the last room, almost painfully, as Kaiba gestured for them to take a seat in front of a desk that presumably belonged to his Major, but Bakura didn’t want to waste time with pleasantries, he wanted to know now, if they knew where he was, if that house meant something, how soon they could get him.

“Sit down, and then I can tell you what I know,” but his voice was as frozen as always and he resigned himself to the fact that this time, maybe it would be better for everyone if he actually obeyed and did what he was told, not realising until he sank into the chair just how tired his bones were. His compliance was just met with a nod, eyes flitting over to Joey once again, whose face was white and tense, sitting next to him in resigned obedience, waiting for him to speak just as much as Bakura was. “Okay, we’ve tracked his location.”

The urge to jump up, to scream and yell and celebrate was almost too much, but he secretly knew that wasn’t what he’d do, he’d grab Kaiba, insist they go get him know, yell until they told him where he was and then set off on a stupid, foolish, one man rescue mission. So he just let his fingers dig into his thighs hard and his eyes flicker up to meet the others, cold as an icy tundra as always, expressing no emotions either good or negative.

“He’s in a house just outside of the city, we’ve put up twenty-four hour CCTV and we’re sending in undercover agents to assess its security level. We already know there are snipers on the roof so we’re not taking any chances.” This he directed straight at the Thief, which he of course expected, just meeting his eyes and smiling sarcastically, wishing he could tell him to fuck himself and his stupid mission and shove it up his arse along with the stick that surely must be wedged there. But he forced himself to stay still, because he knew, as disgusting as it was, that Kaiba was pretty much his only chance of getting Ryou back alive, and he’d do anything for that.

 

* * *

 

 

Whatever they’d given him on the plane, it had been strong, within ten minutes of getting inside the car everything was blurry and he felt like he was going to either throw up or pass out, he’d bet his money on the latter. He was scared, he didn’t know what might happen if he passed out, would he wake up in a strange place, in the middle of nowhere and utterly alone? He internally cursed himself for taking that drink, though he knew he’d had very little choice, in fact, had Mariku tried to give him an injection of something it probably would have been useless to fight. He fought to keep control of his senses, forcing himself to focus on Mariku’s hands in his hair, though they made his empty stomach lurch disgustingly, straining to pick up any conversation so maybe his eyes wouldn’t flutter shut before they got there.

“Give up, Vanilla Slice, we’ve got a long journey,” how Mariku knew of his struggle, he wasn’t sure, but the voice aimed at him wavered and fell like it was coming through water or he had a thick cloth over his mouth. His eyes were still covered and the movement of the car along with whatever drug it was they’d snuck into his drink made him so disoriented he had to take a horrible, panic inducing moment to remember what had happened.

His thoughts were like scrambled eggs, images of Bakura’s face interspersed with blood and Mariku’s voice crooning into his ear, lies, they had to be lies, Bakura wouldn’t do that. But then where was he? Surely not trying to rescue him or else he’d have managed it by now, knowing the Thief he’d snatch Ryou up at the airport rather than leaving him to his fate like this.

“Relax, little Ry,” Whether it was the familiar nickname, or the hands in his hair stroking so repetitively that soothed him off to sleep, he didn’t know, but there was a sense of deep rooted terror in his stomach that he just couldn’t source as he let his eyes drift shut and the rocking of the car soothe him.

* * *

 

 

“Out, get out,” Mariku’s tone had changed so sharply Ryou was almost confused for a moment, waking up warm and somewhat comfortable only to be snapped at and dragged to his feet confused him, eyes blinking hard as his blindfold was unceremoniously torn away.

“Wh-where are we?” He couldn’t hide the shake of his voice as he surveyed the large, bricked-up house he’d been driven to, blinking harsh light out of his eyes and almost wishing the blindfold were back if only so he couldn’t see Mariku’s grin. It looked too abandoned to be any kind of residence, but Mariku knocked smartly on the metal door and it creaked open to show a large open living space, with a huge flat screen taking up most of one wall and plush white leather sofa’s spread around it cosily. The entire place looked more like the home of an eccentric millionaire than the horrible torture chamber he had imagined, but he reminded himself to not let his guard down, just because it looked nice didn’t mean it was. Mariku had essentially kidnapped him after all, beaten Bakura and transported him across the world to presumably trap him here for his own sick pleasures. No, he couldn’t allow himself to relax for a single second, he had to stay on guard and wait for somebody to notice he was missing, surely it wouldn’t take long, Joey or Yugi or somebody would notice. They just had to.

“This, is my Kingdom.” Mariku announced, spreading his arms wide and grinning in a way that made Ryou’s spine tingle unpleasantly, it was like the smile of an animal about to pounce, who’d dragged some poor, injured creature back to its lair and was now going to slowly devour it. “Like it?”

He didn’t know what to say, did he like it? Well objectively he supposed it was quite nice, though all the white hurt his eyes and made him flinch, but when he thought about it in terms of his enslavement, it wasn’t particularly appealing to him. It didn’t seem like somewhere Mariku would be able to torture or otherwise harm him, not without ruining the Persian rugs anyway, but then maybe that wasn’t his intention, maybe he really was infatuated with him and had brought him back to be his Queen.

He felt rather sick, which was understandable given the circumstances, vomit trying to force its way up his throat and swallowing hard against the urge to cough and gag, stomach too empty for anything to come up except maybe a little water and acidic bile. His head felt fuzzy, no doubt the effects of the drug wearing off, he suddenly wished he’d looked around before they went inside, then maybe he could work out where they were, how long he’d been out for. He had no idea where he was, he could have been asleep for an hour or a day, he had no way of knowing and he imagined Mariku wouldn’t answer him even if he did ask. They must still be in Japan though, the television was playing some sort of drama he recognised vaguely, but where in the country he didn’t know, was he even still on Honshu? He could be on any of the minor islands, or in any province. There was a possibility he was still in Domino, that was where they’d landed after all, but the building had no windows, timeless, he wasn’t even sure if it had been natural light that had blinded him outside, maybe it was night now and it was a streetlamp that had blinded him.

All he could do was pray he was in Domino still, at least then he should be easy to find when somebody came to look for him, if somebody came to look for him.

“I said, do you like it?” The hand on his shoulder was like a vice, digging in hard to his skin and forcing his mouth open in shock, gasping and trying vainly to get away.

“Y-yes,” he answered, and again that tremble was in his voice even as Mariku smiled, thin and snake-like, and stepped away, releasing his shoulder. The second of freedom awakened something foolish in him, and he turned to face the door immediately, maybe seeking some escape there, but it was flanked by two men with large, black guns.

“Upset it’s not easier, cream puff?” Mariku’s voice was amused, tanned skin stretched wide over his white teeth as he grinned, nodding at the guards with a smirk. “I’m afraid you won’t be able to get out. After all this effort I went to securing you, do you really think I’d make it so easy for you to run away? Oh no, you’re staying here now, with me, hm, Ry-Ry?”

Ryou didn’t answer, and who could blame him? His legs had started to tremble and he was trying to control his breathing, remembering how all that time ago, Bakura had hated it when he cried and whined like a child, he had to stay strong and calm. But oh fuck, his hands were twitching at his sides and he wanted to cry, because he was so fucking scared, his lip was trembling and he could feel the erratic beat of his heart through his chest.

“Hm,” his voice was unimpressed, almost cold again, but that horribly charismatic smile remained a constant on his face. “Follow me.”

 

* * *

 

 

It got colder the further they went into the complex, the small seeming house was more like a warehouse inside, just one huge room visible, then they reached a set of stone stairs and his fear really gained momentum. It was darker now too, and the smell of damp was filling his nostrils as he was led down and into a long bare corridor, lit by flickering neon strip lights and with doors branching off on each side, secured with large padlocks or sophisticated card-scanning machines so nobody could get in, or out. He couldn’t hear anything down here, it was completely silent and the walls pressed in over him heavily, making his shoulders tremble as they reached the end of the hallway, and the last door.

The keys were in his hand before Ryou heard so much as a jingle, and it was almost impressive, at least until the padlock fell away and the horribly thick chain was in Mariku’s hands, too thick to think of cutting even with the strongest bolt cutters. It opened with a horrible, dull creak, as if it hadn’t been used in a while, rusted with time and in a state of disrepair, given no time to take in the darkness of the room beyond. Mariku had grabbed his upper arm and all but thrown him in, landing poorly and stumbling onto the cold stone floor, crying out in pain as his elbow smashed into the hard surface and the skin of his arm tore and grazed, leaving a red streak in his wake.

“Home sweet home,” was the last thing he heard, said as If warming and welcoming, but there was nothing homely about this room, this place, this situation, he was trapped, like a fly in Mariku’s web, and he knew that no matter how hard he tried, he’d never be able to escape alone. The sound of the door slamming shut and the padlock clicking into place was like his death sentence, not knowing what to do other than the fact that he was a little reassured he’d been left alone, shuffling across the ground to crouch in the corner and try to make himself invisible.

He didn’t know what this room was, there was nothing inherently terrifying about it, it was just a regular basement room, rough stone floor and walls roughly plastered, one dim lightbulb hanging from the ceiling and no source of natural light. In any other situation it wouldn’t scare him, but now he was trapped it looked like a torture chamber and he blamed all the horror films he’d watched for the fact his eyes were suddenly searching for the stainless steel trolley of surgical implements. But all he found was a bucket, which baffled him for a moment, at least til he realised that he might be trapped down here for a while, blood draining from his cheeks because prisoner or not, he did not want to have to relieve himself in a bucket.

But still, he reminded himself it could be a lot worse, curling up against the wall and trying not to think of Bakura as he waited for time to tick by and something to happen, horrible or otherwise, because there was no way anybody would throw their Queen in here.

 

* * *

 

 

It had been four days, _four fucking days_ , and still no word of when they were going to get Ryou, and Bakura felt like he was going to explode with nervousness and anxiety and the fear that grew every day with the knowledge that no, today wasn’t the day. Kaiba disappeared every day at sunrise, more than once walking straight past Bakura as he smoked just outside the front door to the mansion, not saying anything to him, just offering his usual stiff nod and heading into his limo.

Joey tried to distract him with games and the huge pool in the mansions West wing, tried to comfort him with words of reassurance and promises that if anybody could get Ryou back, it would be Kaiba, but it was all in vain. He grew more frustrated and pent up every day and there was little he could do to deal with it but chain smoke, cigarettes magically refilling in his room every morning and smoking at least a pack every day. Or heading to the kitchens and eating whatever he could find, munching his way through a whole loaf of bread at two am when all the kitchen staff were gone, or eating bags of pretzels until he couldn’t chew anymore.

He found the gym on the sixth day, and from then on he almost never left, emerging only when Joey dragged him out to eat something or when his legs threatened to give way under him and he had to collapse into bed. He spent his days covered in sweat, pounding out miles on the treadmill or lifting weights that made his arms burn and scream with overexertion, because if he had to save Ryou, he needed to be ready for anything. He needed to beat Mariku, and there was no way he could have done that before, training almost obsessively, emptying his mind until there was nothing but the repetitive thud of his feet and the loud, almost aggravating electronic music he’d found in the stereo system.

* * *

 

 

He only thought of Ryou at night now, and every time he saw Kaiba, always cold, always distant, always heading away without any new news of their rescue attempts, leaving something in his chest to twist until he felt sick and had to smoke to burn the pain away. The room they’d given him could be something out of an expensive catalogue or an unachievable reality TV programme, but the huge four poster bed and the walk in wardrobe meant nothing to him, his personal bathroom with a Jacuzzi bathtub and multi-setting power shower were meaningless to him. The bed was too big, too cold, it didn’t smell of vanilla or milky coffee or anything he associated with home and safety, it smelled of expensive laundry detergent and fabric softener he knew would make Ryou’s sensitive skin itch. The bathroom wasn’t the same with only one toothbrush in the holder, without the small voice berating him for leaving toothpaste smears in the sink or leaving his wet towel on the floor.

Nothing was the same, and he hated it.

* * *

 

 

The seventh day bloomed, beautiful and frosty, but he couldn’t take it in, hadn’t even slept, alternating between turning and tossing in the cold bed and pacing his room, giving up at 4am and heading into the sakura garden behind the mansion. Sitting on the bench with the ice-frosted surface and staring at the frozen over fountain as if the water was cascading and gently trickling instead of sat there as unmoving and useless as he felt. It was quiet out here, there was a slight breeze rustling the trees, no beautiful pink petals left on them now, all died off in winters chill and bare bones trembling under the force of nature’s wrath.

The red flame of the cigarette in his hand seemed to be the only colour for him now, it was white and chilling outside and dark inside, tones of muted blues just making him feel frostier inside, wondering if maybe he’d turn as icy as Kaiba one of these days. But then he reasoned, he used to be that way before Ryou, only recently had he begun to defrost and appreciate the warmth of a sunny day, now without him the winter seemed far more appropriate.

The silence broke abruptly and his head snapped to the side, taking in the approaching figure and scowling as he turned back to his cigarette, ignoring the man approaching and the fact that he had paid for the cigarettes and indeed everything else he’d been using since he got here. As much as he knew he needed his help, he hated having to go to somebody so smug and full of himself, hated having to grovel to the one person he distrusted over everyone. But he remained silent, thinking quietly that Ryou would be horrified at his lack of manners this last week, thought instantly replaced with the sound of terrified screaming and breath freezing for a second before it puffed out into the air as white smoke.

This kept happening, even in moments where his thoughts were on revenge and making blood stream down Mariku’s face, Ryou could burst through and his legs would buckle on the treadmill, he’d miss a step and fall into nothingness for a second as his heart leapt in his chest. The pleading, almost begging voice would fill up his brain and he’d feel so frozen and terrified and useless that anger would overtake fast and he’d just want to break something, to kill something, to smash his fists against the mirror until his reflection distorted and his hands streamed blood.

But he hadn’t again, not after the first time, Joey had look so scared of him, those amber eyes creased into an expression he’d seen in chocolate brown and all the anger had faded from him in a second, bloodied, swollen hands falling down from the destroyed bathroom mirror silently.

He must have heard the noise rooms away, because Kaiba joined him a moment later, not saying anything, just observing him with those cold blue eyes that he’d grown to hate, expression neutral but the slight twitch of his lip. He couldn’t stand their eyes on him, judging him for his weakness and the feelings he just couldn’t hide now, storming past them to smoke until he coughed up blood and his head pounded with thick smoke and maybe the screaming would stop for a while.

When he got back the mess had already been cleaned up, broken glass swept and disposed of, blood wiped away and tape fixing the loose edges of mirror still attached to the wall. He had no doubt that it would be fully replaced by the next day, and he was right, returning from the gym to a sheet of new, shiny glass as if nothing had ever happened, it made his breath catch in his throat and he didn’t know if he liked how quickly it had been ironed over.

 

“Ten am,” he’d been so lost in his own thoughts he’d barely noticed Kaiba’s presence on the bench next to him, almost choking on smoke as he suddenly spoke, breath puffing out like one of the dragons he so adored. “We’re having a meeting, to discuss the rescue.”

He didn’t respond, didn’t even nod, just waiting for him to continue, because suddenly there were spores of razor sharp ice in his lungs and he couldn’t speak, staring forwards and taking a drag of his cigarette. Glancing at the burning end, Ryou had always hated him smoking.

“I’ll need another week, to get things ready,” he was awaiting confirmation, and he managed a jerky nod, seemingly answer enough as the other stood, looking strangely… Normal, in casual clothes, suddenly taking in his baggy sweatpants and a hooded jacket he was sure was Joey’s, feeling a stab of jealousy in his chest. “Then you won’t have to wait any more.”

His last words were quieter, not spoken with the authority of somebody used to giving orders and relaying information, but soft like the way he spoke to Joey and his brother, and Bakura finally sensed a sliver of humanity in him.

When he headed to his bed, one cigarette later, he fell into the least troubled sleep he had in a while, and didn’t wake til 9am when Joey knocked him awake with a tray of toast and a smile as nervous as the snakes in his stomach made him feel.

 

* * *

 

 

The car was waiting for him when he finally emerged, right on time for once and feeling a mixture of absolutely terrified and excitement that made his fingers twitch nervously at his sides. This time, when they blindfolded him, he didn’t care.

 

* * *

 

 

He’d listened in silence, barely understanding what they were saying but knowing that this operation had taken considerable planning and had probably cost a lot of money, hearing talk of different guns and bullets and helicopters and just realising what a powerful man Kaiba was. Waiting til he was done and the soldiers amassed were talking amongst themselves, only the most powerful ones there today, Major Hayashi and a group of specially chosen, elite soldiers trained in a million kinds of combat and deadlier than Bakura could ever hope to be.

“I’m coming too.” Because there was no way he was going to sit in the mansion, comfortable and safe while somebody else went and rescued his…Hikari, friend, boyfriend? Whatever Ryou was to him, no, this was his fault and he was going to fix it himself even if it meant getting shot, getting stabbed (again), whatever it took, he was going to get him back.

He turned without comment, taking in his clenched fists and hard expression with an almost amused smile, raising one eyebrow as if assuming he was joking, tiniest laugh in his voice as he spoke, as if Bakura was being ridiculous. “Oh no, you’re not going.”

His expression hardened into a glare that would scare a lesser man, unfortunately for the Thief though, Seto Kaiba was made of steel, barely blinking as he clenched his fists, teeth bared and almost growling. “The fuck do you mean, I’m not going?”

“I mean, you’re not going. You can stay here.” He shook his head, turning back to the Major as if the conversation had come to an agreed end instead of being abruptly shut down by him with a single, unfeeling sentence that tore into his chest.

“Bullshit am I’m staying here!” His hand was on Kaiba’s arm, yanking him around hard and not flinching when he was shoved off, blue eyes cloudy and stern where they pinned him in place, almost intimidating, although not enough for him to even consider backing down.

“After what happened at the airport you’re lucky I even agreed to this,” he was hissing, showing more emotion than he had ever seen from him, throwing him off his arm easily and trying to assert his power over him again.

Joey was looking between them with that kicked puppy expression again, like a lost child watching mummy and daddy shouting again, not knowing what to do but knowing this wasn’t good, things shouldn’t be like this. He chewed his lip at Kaiba’s words, because they all knew he was right, there had been an agreement between them, Bakura wasn’t supposed to try and get Ryou himself, and he had disobeyed. Kaiba was used to well trained staff who’d abide to his every whim, Bakura going against him was not something he was willing to accept, especially when it could’ve gotten a lot of innocent people killed in the crossfire.

But Bakura knew this, he knew he shouldn’t have done it, he’d gotten himself knocked out for it, again, but the pain in Ryou’s voice, the almost childish fear and the betrayal were too strong, they tore into his head until he couldn’t stand by and just watch him be taken any longer. Seto didn’t have to do this in the first place, even Joey knew that, he was doing this as a favour to him, knowing that he was close with Ryou and therefore anything that happened to him would potentially break him.

“I am not staying here, I got him into this, I’ll be damned if I’m not getting him out of it.”

“You’re right, you did get him into this. What were you thinking?” His tone was mocking, expression sneering and cruel as he tore into the Thief who didn’t even tremble, though he was biting his lip hard to stop from actually growling. “Do you even understand what’s going on here? We can potentially catch a major criminal, a human trafficking ring and I will not let your pathetic excuse for a relationship get in the way of that.”

The insult cut him deep, because yeah maybe their relationship wasn’t perfect, had never been, but Joey was staring at him with hurt in his eyes, as if he’d just announced Ryou’s life meant nothing to him, so he sure was being a fucking hypocrite.

“I thought this was about Ryou,” it hurt to say his name, to know that right now the only person he’d be hearing if from was Mariku, who could be doing anything to him. Torture, rape, humiliation, a million horribly graphic scenarios flew behind his eyes on an endless loop that made his head spin and his stomach churn because he _didn’t fucking know_.

“For you maybe,” it was cold in the compound, but not as cold as the depths of his eyes, glinting like sharp steel and slicing straight through him to the soft, pounding muscle in his chest that just wouldn’t behave ever since Ryou had been taken away. “Do you want me to let you leave? To tell you where he is?”

He didn’t respond, he knew he wasn’t actually asking, he was taunting him, it was clear in his almost snootily raised nose, as if he was better than Bakura just because he had money and power, if he could have seen him a thousand years ago he wouldn’t be so fucking smug.

“To let you go there and die, because I promise you, you would die. You have no idea of the scale of this operation, you can’t just go running in because you want to save your little boyfriend, and by the way, it might already be too late for-“

The slap rang through the room, and even Major Hayashi managed to look shocked, it had happened too fast for any of them to stop it, some elite soldiers they were, Seto’s cheek stinging and red where Joey’s palm had connected. His amber eyes were almost hard but his voice wavered as he spoke, anger making his nostrils flare and his hands tremble where they balled up at his side, aware of all eyes on him

“That’s enough, Kaiba.”

It was the use of his last name that hurt the most, they’d gotten past that stage a while ago now and to hear him revert back, to say his name as scornfully as he used to when they sparred in school almost made him flinch more than the slap.

He was recovered from the shock within seconds, speaking up again, over the mild hum of voices that had risen from all assembled because Seto Kaiba did not let people treat him like that. “Just… Give me a weapon. I can fight! I can help!” It was the nearest to begging he had ever come, on the verge of flinging himself to the ground and pleading to be allowed to go, because if he didn’t save Ryou he knew he’d never forgive him.

“You will _not_ compromise this,” it was as if the slap had never happened, back to his steely, heart of ice persona within seconds, ignoring the red of his cheek and his boyfriend’s trembling form next to him, almost awaiting punishment from the security team that filled the room. “It’s your fault he’s there, I’m not letting you make a bigger mess of things.”

“He didn’t mean to!” Joey’s voice was unexpected, he’d been quiet through this whole thing, standing twitching in between them, not knowing whose side to take, his boyfriends, who wanted to destroy the criminal ring, or Bakura’s, who just wanted Ryou back. “He didn’t know that was going to happen and you know it! He screwed up so let him fix it!”

He didn’t speak, breaking eye contact with his boyfriend and turning to look at the ground, hand raised to pinch the bridge of his nose and sighing heavily, “Fine. Give him a gun, get him trained.” His voice was hard when he gave orders, loud and authoritative, a voice you couldn’t ignore or fail to be impressed by, the power he commanded at such a young age was almost scary and Bakura could see why people feared him.

“Yes Sir,” Hayashi nodded stiffly, immediately obeying his orders, no matter how much he may disagree with them, distrust clear on his face as he led Bakura out of the room, feeling more like a prisoner than the guest Joey had claimed him to be.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m giving you a Beretta M9,” the man instructed to look after him spoke, and all he could do was blink, because he knew next to nothing about guns other than if somebody pulled one he should do his best to avoid getting shot. He may as well have been speaking in Greek and he seemed to realise this, smiling in amusement and placing down the weapon he was holding, it sounded heavy and Bakura couldn’t tear his eyes off the matt black metal. “Never fired a gun before?”

“Never held one,” he admitted, because knives were more his thing, better for close combat in small alleyways, not to mention that they at least gave the other person a chance, guns had always felt a little like cheating to him.

“Okay, I’ll give you a run through first, then we can head to the range and try to shoot some targets, sound good?” He couldn’t really do much but nod, if it was up to him he’d kill Mariku with his bare hands, but given the knowledge that he had snipers posted on the roof of wherever he was hiding, he had the feeling it wouldn’t be the best idea to be unarmed. He just nodded, and the guy, Tio? Smiled.

“Alright, so this is the Beretta M9, it’s a semiautomatic pistol, it holds a box magazine of 15 rounds, so bullets basically.” Bakura nodded again, even if he didn’t understand most of it, at least he knew how many attempts he would have to shoot at people before he needed to reload. “We’ll equip you with plenty of magazines and I’ll teach you to reload. It’s effective up to fifty metres but any further than that and you may as well not bother. That’s all you really need to know, wanna relay some of that back to me?”

“Fifteen bullets, fifty metres… It’s a pistol,” his words trailed off, because he hadn’t really told him much and he felt very out of his depth, but the guy nodded and smiled, pocketing a couple of the magazines of bullets he’d spoken of and slipping the gun into the holster on his belt.

“Perfect, okay, follow me and we’ll get you firing,” something in his surprisingly laid back demeanour was reassuring, and Bakura knew that even though he’d most likely have a horrible aim and thoroughly prove himself to be less than useless on this mission, at least he would have tried.

 

* * *

 

 

The shooting range was basically as he’d expected, there were various members of Kaiba’s security force practicing, guns in hand and separated by partitions so they could focus on the people shaped targets in front of them. The sound of gun fire was loud as they paused outside the doors where a rack of ear protectors and what looked like scientific goggles sat, he winced immediately because almost nobody in the room beyond seemed to be wearing them and he knew now he’d be embarrassing himself doubly as much.

“You know what to do,” there was a hand on his shoulder and he had to fight the urge to snap at him to get off, because he needed to practice, hell, he needed to learn how it fucking worked since he imagined it took a little more than just pulling the trigger. He just sighed, grabbing a pair of the clear plastic goggles and putting them on, just glad they weren’t scratched or smeared with grease, assuming he wouldn’t be wearing them on the actual mission.

He pulled on the ear protector’s next, chunky earmuff like things in blue and black plastic, sound of fire dimming immediately and Tio’s voice audible over them if he concentrated and the other seemed to raise his voice. Resting them around his neck a second later as Tio gestured for him to do so, leading him to a small metal table against the opposite wall and removing the gun again, Bakura was suddenly reminded of a piece of work Ryou had done for his psychology course, a study on whether people were better at giving evidence in situations where there was a weapon present and where there wasn’t. If he remembered correctly those people who were threatened with a gun noticed a lot less about the criminals, he thought he understood why now, there was some power in the piece of metal he held calmly in his hands and looking away just seemed foolish even in this relatively safe situation.

“Okay, we’ve only got a week to work with so I’m going to teach you the very basics. I’ll teach you how to aim and shoot first, we’ll leave reloading til you’ve tried it out.” He just nodded again, knowing he needed to remember this and let it sink into him so thoroughly he’d never forget, because damn this could be the difference between life and death, his own or somebody else’s. “This is the safety switch, there’s an easy way to remember if it’s on or not- Red means dead. Okay, so if red is showing that means the gun is live and dangerous. Repeat that back.”

“Red is dead.”

“Yup, so this little slide here? You just slide it back and when you can only see the metal of the gun it’s turned on and the gun is mostly safe.” Bakura was sure he’d dumbed down the explanation for him, because who would refer to a gun as ‘mostly safe’ in any situation? But he appreciated it anyway, having seen somebody taking apart a gun blindfolded and putting it back together through the glass door panel and feeling remarkable impressed. “There’s really only two more things you need to know, which is the sight, here.”

He pointed to a small bump of metal on top of the gun’s main body, turning it so Bakura could see and lifting the gun so it stretched out in front of him, both arms straight and one eye closed. “This is a more accurate way of aiming, obviously in a crucial situation you probably wouldn’t have time, but if you need a good shot and they’re within sight, always use yours. Then the trigger is obvious, stand like this, knees a shoulders width apart, arms out straight and gun ahead of you. If you hold it near your face the kickback could mean you get hurt.”

“Mm-hm,” he nodded for what felt like the millionth time and might well be, feeling increasingly nervous as Tio’s grin widened.

“Okay, ear protectors on, let’s go fire your first shot.”

How he was so enthusiastic, so calm, Bakura had no idea, because his hands were sweating and his heart was pounding in his chest, not entirely sure he trusted guns, because they were not an extension of his hand as his dagger was, no, they were dangerous even without him needing to touch them. But then they were on the range and he was glad of the earmuffs, because even without them he could hear the loud bangs as they aimed and fired with alarming accuracy, tiny holes punched through the large bullseyes on the targets heads and chests with nearly every shot.

“Okay, basic gun range rules. Only shoot at the target, obviously if you miss that’s fine but don’t aim for anything else. Aim only for the target in front of you, don’t try to shoot the next one down. Hold your gun pointed down at all times except when you’re firing, this includes reloading. That’s it,” he smiled again, smaller this time and maybe a little reassuring, blue eyes warm as they regarded his lightly twitching fingers. “Okay, so I’m going to hand the gun to you now, it’s loaded and the safety is on.”

He offered it over and something in Bakura hated it the second his fingers touched it, it was so cold, so clunky and badly fitting in his hand and he wished he could just use his dagger, that well-worn handle and carefully polished blade looked a damn sight better. This was too heavy, alien and like a complete stranger to him, just turning to glance up at Tio for further instruction because he just wanted to shoot now and see if he hated it as much as he did just holding it.

“Alright good, so to load it you need to pull back the slide on top,” there were hands on the gun, gesturing to what he had to do and Bakura followed the instruction easily despite his sweating hands, pulling the piece of metal back and letting it return to the original place. “When you shoot you need to make sure your fingers aren’t near the slide or you’ll get cut, place them like this…”

He was rearranging his fingers, placing his pointer along the length of the gun but far down enough that he wouldn’t get caught when he reloaded, “so that’s the neutral position for reloading, when you want to fire, grip with these fingers, hold the handle with your thumb and place your finger on the trigger.”

The trigger, the most dangerous part, but somehow the gunfire around them was making him less sensitive to the danger of this, just obeying silently and using his other hand to steady it when it was gestured he should do so, glad it stopped some of the trembling.

 “Okay, so take the safety off and replace your fingers, remember to keep it pointed at the ground,” he obeyed, remembering the ‘red is dead’ mantra, and knowing that now he could cause harm, could turn and shoot anybody in the room, but of course he wouldn’t. “Assume the stance and try to aim with the sight, but don’t shoot yet.”

The gun was wobbling as he tried to, finding the red in his sight only for the gun to wobble away and lose it again, figuring he wouldn’t care in the actual situation, he could immobilise them first then finish them off, though it if was up to him the only person he’d be killing would be Mariku.

“Alright, when you fire the gun will… Jerk,” it was obvious he hadn’t known what word to use to easily explain it, smiling sheepishly as Bakura just raised an eyebrow at him. “So let it and follow through upwards with your arms. Okay? Just remember to relax, control your breathing, and shoot when you feel ready.”

When he felt ready, that was a joke, Bakura didn’t think he’d ever feel ready, he tried to do as he was told, calm his breathing down, but he didn’t like guns, they’d only ever been pointed on him before and he didn’t much like the idea that he had become one of those people. Still, he took a moment, to remember what was at stake, to think of Mariku and to imagine his face on the paper target that hung in front of him, making sure he was holding the gun steady and exhaling long and steadying.

And fired, straight through the forehead of the target.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing about guns, I have never even held one, the only time I've seen a gun is at the airport on a security guard, so I apologise if any of my knowledge is wrong


	24. Chapter 24

“Tomorrow.”

He just stared at him across the table, knowing what he meant but too afraid, too unpractised to believe he meant what he really must, that tomorrow, in a few hours, things would be different, people would be bleeding and screaming and there’d be uncontrolled gunfire and the smell of smoke in the air.

“What time?”

“Be ready for 0730, somebody will come for you and take you to headquarters.”

He nodded then, staring down at his steak, at the glass of wine and the taller one of water next to the plate, wondering how must this had cost, how much time the Michelin starred chef had put into it, unable to take another bite. He could hear nervous chewing, watching Joey shove creamed potatoes and piles of sautéed vegetables into his mouth like that would somehow kill the tension bubbling in him, blinking slowly and observing the rabbit like overstuff of his cheeks.

A mouthful of wine, expensive berry and hinting acidity, aged, finest, from the cellar below them, removed especially because every day was a celebration if you were Seto Kaiba, putting the glass down and red ring staining the cream linen, imported from Italy. Fingers itching for a smoke he could not have in the dining hall, because why have a room when you can have a hall and a table so large they are miles apart yet as close as fabric on skin.

“I’m not comin’, Seto says I have to stay here. I’ll be with the doc, case anyone gets hurt,” he was amazed he’d stopped eating for long enough to say that, stabbing the last roast potato in the platter and biting into it whole, aforementioned Kaiba not even batting an eyelid. Pale fingers just slid his plate across to his boyfriend, ignoring the surprise in amber eyes, the guilt there, the slightest hint of bruising on a fragile cheekbone, cutting into bloodied meat and hunching into his seat.

Scraping of wood across more the same, standing, rustling of cheap jeans and a hoodie too large for him that smelled of vanilla and made him sick, “I’ll be there.”

Hearing the softest murmur of conversation as he made his way across the parquet floor, trainer soles squeaking where Seto’s polished Italian leather had clacked intimidatingly, apologies and tanned fingers twined with skinny cold.

“He’s your friend too, I’m sorry I forgot.”

But the door closed then with a muffled thud, twice as tall as him and worth more than he ever would be or ever had been, ignoring their closeness, the clanking of cutlery finally being set aside, of a formal dinner being ended by the very one who had organised it.

 

* * *

 

 

Back to the garden and the still cold bench though a little warmer, two weeks having passed, no, more, time seemed to slip away from him like the tiniest trickle of water where ice had thawed and the weak had won over the strong. Smoke flowing from his lips and shoulders hard with tension so his back ached, strained against the bench, pretty carvings stabbing into his muscles but not encouraging him to move.

It was quiet but the whistling of the wind through the dead sakura trees that had seen better weather, but he liked that, the mansion’s silence was stilted with unspoken things and hurt feelings, but out here it was clearer and he could almost think. But of course nothing could stay so good forever and before long the sound of clumsy feet came trampling across frosty grass, crushing through gracefully lain gravel pathways and pausing in front of him even though he had no intention to sit down.

He didn’t want to be there but somehow he had the feeling Bakura needed him now, or anybody who could help really, if he could choose out of a line-up Joey would probably be one of the last people he’d want to try and comfort him, but right now he was his only chance. He didn’t speak, just eased himself down onto the chilled bench, pausing to chew his lip and wondering why he’d been sent out here, what Kaiba had expected him to say, wishing he’d speak plainly for once instead of saying he’d know what to do and leaving him to deal with this himself.

He just let the silence reign for a little while, glad of the jumper he’d pulled on as the icy wind tried to seep through the cracks in the wool to chill the rest of him, fingers cold already where he rubbed at them absently, formulating words and watching steam puff from his mouth. “We’ll find him, Bakura. We gotta. He’ll be there, I just know he will,” asking why was foolish and he’d never considered himself that before this whole ordeal, just nodding and not believing and sucking in painful smoke, staring at the fountain, freezing back over as night fell dark and hopeless.

“What happens after, when we find him?”

He leaned forwards then, the opposite of the Thief, elbows on his knees and body low, just screaming tension and staring at his cigarette for so long he offered one over, anything to occupy him he guessed, you could only eat so much after all. His hands were clenched tightly in front of him, grey trailing between the white-tight knuckles of his hand, palms sweaty and throat dry, speaking with hope but disposition screaming fear. “Kaiba’s got doctors n’ stuff, he’ll be alright.”

“No, I- I mean when things go back to normal. When he speaks to me. If he does.”

“Bakura-“ he began but trailed off with a sigh, self-depreciation wasn’t a characteristic he’d often, if ever, apply to the boy who sat next to him on the bench, sharing a smoke, keeping his terror squashed down under anger and aggression and pretence that he wasn’t scared of rejection. “He’ll understand, if ya explain, he has ta.”

He nearly opened his mouth, nearly said that no, _no,_ he didn’t have to do anything, he didn’t have to listen, or speak to him or even look at him again, he didn’t have to act like anything that had gone before this had happened or meant anything even if it had. He didn’t have to act like it was okay for Bakura to abandon him even when he could have been raped or beaten or tortured or had any other number of horrible things done to him, that he’d have every right to set Bakura on fire if he wanted to.

But he kept his mouth shut and threw his stub into the fountain, melting the tiniest hole in the ice in the second before it was dampened out and died, standing suddenly and murmuring his farewell, he’d see him in the morning, it was all he could say that he knew to be true.

* * *

 

Joey stayed outside for too long, somehow the increasingly cold night numbing him helped him feel a little better, not sure what to feel as he just stared unseeingly at the fountain, watching the tiny trickle of water slowly cease in its effort and surrender to the weather. It was almost pitch black now and somehow sitting very still there seemed right, swinging his legs onto the bench beside him and wondering if Kaiba would scold him for putting his dirty shoes on it. He just stayed still then, bundled into his jumper and ear-tips growing blue where his hair didn’t quite cover them, wishing he hadn’t agreed to Seto’s demand that he got a cut.

“Pup, come inside,” normally he would have jumped at the sudden voice, but he was too distant to do much but nod stiffly, not realising until he stood just how frozen his joints were, accepting the warm, thin hand he was offered and feeling almost blinded by the soft light coming from the rear entrance to the mansion.

 

Bedtime was a quiet affair, Seto had insisted he took a shower to warm up, towelling his hair dry for him when he was done and not bothering to try and comfort him, he had no words after all, both changing into their pyjamas.

Joey was grateful more than ever for Seto’s four poster bed that night, the thick drapes surrounding it meant they were in pitch blackness and somehow that was what he needed then, to be away from reality and to pretend things were fine. He didn’t know how he felt and all he could do was worry for Ryou, hoping he was okay and knowing things weren’t okay at all, wondering if maybe he’d spend his next night in the same comfort that enveloped him now.

It felt a little unfair that Ryou must be so alone right now while he had Seto pulling him into his arms and stroking at his spine, not sure if he felt better afterwards or not, just sighing and closing his eyes against his collarbone, listening to his quiet breathing and trying to ease himself into sleep.

“It’ll all be over tomorrow, pup,” his last statement must be meant to be comforting but it was a duel edged sword and Joey wasn’t sure whether he wanted to cry or whether to believe him and pretend things would work out perfectly. But at least he wasn’t lying, no matter how it ended, things would finally be over tomorrow, but how it ended was the very issue that troubled his sleep for the rest of that night.

 

* * *

 

 

The first days weren’t too bad, although that was entirely subjective and based entirely on the impression he’d gotten from Hollywood blockbusters about what the typical kidnapping involved, so compared to that, he was doing alright. He was still in the basement room but he’d been left alone so far, perhaps they were waiting for his spirit to break, for him to demand to be released, maybe then he’d be placed on his throne as Queen or whatever else Mariku wanted.

Food was pushed through the door a couple of times a day, plain things, a lump of bread or occasionally a mug of what he supposed was meant to be soup, served almost cold and so thin he could barely distinguish it from the water it was served with. He was hungry, yes, and a little cold and it was hardly easy to sleep on the stone floor, but things could be worse and he still help naive hope that Mariku had been wrong, that this had all been a mix up and Bakura would be on his way to save him.

The thief had always hated him for being such an optimist, but now he felt like surrounding to fear so fast would only encourage whatever sick plans his captor must have for him, so he stuck to his hope and counted the hours and tried to fill the time with childish counting games.

It was the lack of windows that was most annoying, because he didn’t really have any way to tell when it was day and night, of how long he’d been there, but after what must have only been a couple of days, Mariku began turning up every morning with his food, smiling as if this was a mere sleepover and he wasn’t being held captive.

 

“Such bad manners, creampuff,” he didn’t bother responding, nor did he slow in shoving the generous chunk of bread into his mouth, ripping chunks off the stale lump and chewing frantically, stomach grumbling with excitement and washing it down with water for his parched throat. He couldn’t care less about being polite now, or about having company, not noticing the almost tense tone in his voice as he spoke, assuming he’d been joking as always and only remembering how foolish it was to disobey him as a hand wound hard into his hair and jerked his head back. “I suggest you listen to me.”

His words died on his tongue, body frozen in time and eyes widening as he was released and fell to the ground on his side, elbow whacking the harsh floor and sending a jarring pain up into his shoulder, grimacing but not stupid enough to scramble away. Nothing Mariku ever said was a suggestion though and that was as much an order as anything else was, just obeying his command to turn around so he wasn’t facing him, heart jackhammering against his ribs and unable to breathe in the suddenly thick air.

“Hands behind your back,” he knew what was coming now, just squeezing his eyes shut and not knowing enough about these situations to know he should clench his fists while the rope wound around them and secured them together. There was no wriggle room when the knot was done and his shoulders were pulled back by the rough material binding him still, breakfast forgotten and knowing that now it was too late, Bakura wasn’t coming and Mariku was insane and he was doomed.

 

* * *

 

 

His staff were too well trained, yelling at them would do nothing so the second he saw Kaiba he was on him like a lion on its prey, grabbing his upper arm so hard it had to hurt and turning him around, almost growling into his face and tone rising in anger. “You said we were starting at 0730, not nearly bloody one in the afternoon!”

“My staff informed me you were in the gym until nearly three am, I felt it best to leave you to sleep,” he always looked so smug it rubbed Bakura up the wrong way, twisting his arm free and sending him the iciest look, staring right down his nose at him as if he wouldn’t usually let some plebeian like him even breathe the same air.

“You mean Joey did.”

Then a crack in the armour, lip twitching up a little at the side, more amused at his own weakness being outed so easily than he was concerned, just inclining one shoulder and seeming the tiniest bit more human. “He may have played a part in influencing my decision, but it still stands.”

“What about the briefing?”

“You and Joey will accompany me to the game room for one specifically tailored to you. There are some details you don’t need to know.” He scowled then, he hated being left out of things, Kaiba keeping things hidden from him even now, barely willing to let him go along and only doing it under harsh stipulations and more than a little condescension.

“And what about breakfast?”

“Breakfast?” He didn’t say anything else, just raised an eyebrow at him as he gestured for him to follow, not scolding him for having grabbed so hard in the first place, for having barked at him, just allowing the thief to follow along behind him. He’d been almost encouraged to ask why on earth he’d be thinking of breakfast at a time like this but he remembered Joey’s words to try and be nice, swallowing his judgement down.

“Can’t fight on an empty stomach.”

He seemed to consider this for a moment, then Bakura saw the faintest hint of a smile on his face, wiped off the moment he was walking side-by-side with him, door to their left swinging open by an unseen hand and the CEO just ushering him inside, clicking his fingers at the maid who lingered beside Joey. “Hm, true. Umeko, we’ll have lunch in here, immediately.”

“Yes, Kaiba-sama,” she nodded respectfully and quietly left the room, head low almost in reverence and easing the large door closed silently behind her, like a ghost but in black rather than white.

 

* * *

 

 

Things didn’t get started as fast as he wanted and he forced himself to hold his tongue as Kaiba worked on setting up some kind of presentation and Joey attempted to make stilted small talk, luckily getting the message to shut up after the first couple of uninterested grunts.

Then food arrived in the form of rice balls and a tall jug of barley tea, left with another bow on the floor where Bakura and Joey tried to relax into plush seats sunk into the floor, a true gaming room and if his mind wasn’t so otherwise occupied he’d probably be amazed by the decadence of it.

But finally, _finally,_ Kaiba seemed ready to go, somebody in what must be a casual version of military uniform perched on a chair at one side of the room, eyes hooded and leaning forwards on his knees as if ready to interrogate them at any moment, so to Bakura’s surprise, it was Kaiba who led the briefing.

“Operation Black Kite will begin at nightfall tonight, the compound is heavily guarded, with snipers on the roof and a rotation of guards which seems to change sporadically. We have yet to work out if they are following a pattern, but you don’t need to know about that, your part comes after the compound is secured.” The slideshow changed then, showing blueprints of the house in which Mariku was supposedly based, Bakura trying to memorise it even as he knew that was stupid. “When it has been locked down and all threats have been neutralised, only then will you be allowed in, Mariku is yours to do with as you wish, either let him live and be jailed, or dispatch him quickly and without mess.”

He nodded, and Joey turned a nervous look at him, chewing insistently on the package of fat, shiny toffees he’d been eating the entire time they’d been in the room, knowing already which option he’d be picking and not sure he liked it that he’d even been given a choice, just swallowing one sweet down and unwrapping another.

“We believe the complex has a basement where Ryou may be being held, if we find him, we’ll leave him to you but if he needs medical aid I need to know you’ll obey my orders to leave his side.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good, so when everything is dealt with and we’ve hopefully found both Ryou and Mariku, then you can do whatever you want. Try not to get killed, try not to endanger my men, and if there is a repeat of what happened at the airport I will get my men to handcuff you to their jeep and leave you there, understood?”

He felt like he’d been scolded but all he could focus on was Joey’s nervous chewing next to him, wet, squishy sound of toffee being mangled between his teeth only making him feel strangely determined to obey more than ever. He wasn’t the only one suffering here and he knew that, he needed to ensure this operation could be carried out smoothly without him endangering anything, just nodding firmly and dumping the second rice ball he couldn’t finish.

“Understood.”

 

* * *

 

 

After that he could never see the door of the room or the person who slid in the food, hands kept tied and only released when food arrived or he was permitted to use the bucket in the corner that served as a toilet. It had been worse at first, having to relieve himself so openly, usually with a guard still right there and even though he might look away it was still exposing, but he’d gotten used to it as he had everything else.

Then when he’d wolfed down his food and his aching bladder was finally empty and still, his hands were grabbed with varying degrees of harshness and he was bound again, turned to face away from the door and left to resume his game of counting bricks in the wall until Mariku came for his nightly visit.

 

Usually he’d just talk to him calmly, would untie his wrists and rub at the sore red marks on them where rope had chafed and torn his skin, asked questions about him, about his past and his sister, his life before Bakura. It was never bad, it was almost companionable and he began to wonder if maybe he really was there to be Mariku’s Queen rather than anything more sinister, all they did was talk and even if sometimes he’d sit too close or play with his hair, that was all he ever did.

He was calm and polite in that slightly unnerving, flirtatious way he’d always been before, would smile a little too hungrily and his large hand would linger on his knee or he’d be encouraged to lie across his lap so he could fiddle with his hair while he asked mundane questions.

 

But that night they must have slipped something into his water because he felt weird even as the door unbolted, the usual loud screeching noise seeming muffled like he was at the bottom of a swimming pool. His head was fuzzy and hazy and he could see Mariku reflected a million times in front of his eyes, no amount of blinking would make him solidify into one person, unable to work out which one was reaching for him.

He must have timed it perfectly because by the time he’d arrived Ryou was on the verge of unconsciousness, so high on the mystery drug he couldn’t even feel the pain of a knife slicing slowly down his spine. He was dimly aware of a stinging pain and his head being suddenly against the rough floor, pressing into the stones and sliding across one, he could feel the hands on his hips but he was too hazy to work out what they were doing there. He tried to speak, to ask what was going on, to say he felt sick, but his voice wasn’t working and his head span so hard his stomach squirmed and churned, head pounding now and white lights sparking across his eyes.

There was something warm on his back and it felt unnatural, arms still tied behind him and unaware of it now, trying to reach out to work out what was going on, to find something to cling onto but even though he felt he was using all his strength he didn’t so much as twitch.

Time was sped up then suddenly slowed down and when he was left alone he had no idea how long had passed, room whizzing around like he was on a carousel but a million times scarier, pressing his eyes closed and feeling like he was floating then plummeting through space.

 

He must have passed out, he had to have done because the next thing he knew he’d eased his eyes open to a horrific headache, unbound hands and a large bottle of water sitting on the floor next to him. His mouth was so dry he could barely breathe and his hands shook when he reached out for it, gulping it down greedily so there were only the tiniest dregs left in the bottom, still lying on the hard ground and easing himself up slowly with his eyes pressed closed.

The room stayed still now, the pain in his back and the sudden sharp jab of agony when he sat down making his breath catch, feeling icy cold terror overwhelm him even as he knew it was too late. His shirt was clinging unnaturally to his back and he reached to grip it with trembling arms he almost couldn’t control, biting his bottom lip hard and whimpering as he finally touched the wetness of the material, hand coming back stained red that dried and crusted into the whorls of his palm, the tiny indentations of his fingerprints.

The next however long was spent trying to peel the material free, crying and whimpering and pausing to pant as agony burst through his body and he tried not to cry out, shaking all over now with realisation.

He was no Queen, not even a Princess, he was a slave, a dirty little secret, a toy to be used whenever Mariku got bored, there was no throne for him and there would be no escape either, he couldn’t avoid this. If he wouldn’t drink the drugged water they’d force the pills down his throat and he wondered if it was better to have been so out of control he didn’t remember much, thinking that if he got to choose between being drugged or conscious, he’d choose drugged every time.

 

He was left alone the rest of that day, bread was thrown at him later and he didn’t even move to touch it, curled up in the corner as best he could without the throbbing of his back and the ache between his hips getting worse, head buried in his knees and begging for unconsciousness or death, whichever would grace him first.

 

* * *

 

“Your equipment is in your room, but I forgot to say, if you draw your gun before the compound and Mariku are secured, I’ve told my soldiers to incapacitate you however they see fit,” Bakura didn’t expect him to pause then, the almost threat hanging between them in the second his expression softened the tiniest bit, just nodding at him and almost giving him advice. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t. Not again.”

“Good,” then it was back to business, gesturing him to enter the room they lingered outside, expecting his word to be followed without argument or any other objections, “get changed, be in the entrance hall in half an hour.”

Changing seemed to be a literal term, there was an entire outfit laid out for him on the bed he’d been sleeping in but could not call his own, not when it was so empty, all in dark black and seemingly practical in both number of pockets and bullet-proofing. There was a vest first, thick and heavier than he’d expected Kevlar to be, sliding on a plain t-shirt above it and then a long sleeved jacket in some material he didn’t recognise but fitted over him perfectly.

There was no protection for his legs but then he supposed a bullet to his torso would do a lot more damage than one to any of his extremities, pulling on baggy cargo pants with a bunch of pockets weighed down with stuff. A walkie-talkie, magazines of bullets, one of his own knives, the one he always carried, what looked like a small flashlight and a length of thin but tough feeling rope, perhaps as an emergency precaution in case he had to escape fast from an upper storey.

Then his own boots and he was glad for that, while he didn’t mind the idea of being given another pair he hated to think that something as minuscule as blisters might prevent him from getting to Ryou as fast as he needed to. Then last was the gun and a holster to fit round his middle and hide under his jacket, as if Mariku’s men wouldn’t expect them to be armed, sliding out the magazine with practiced fingers and slotting it back into place, ensuring the safety was flicked on and turning to regard himself in the mirror.

He almost laughed aloud when he realised how stupid his white hair looked atop all this black, any attempt they’d made to ensure they all blended in to the night would be useless the moment he popped into view, he would in fact make a lovely target.

But more than anything he almost didn’t like the way it looked, he looked skilled, practiced, he looked like a trained killer and while he’d never say he was an amazing person, he certainly wasn’t some kind of murdering machine either. He just took a deep breath, wondering if even Ryou would be afraid of him now, deciding he didn’t like to think about that and leaving both the thoughts and his reflection behind as he left the room for what would be the last time.

 

* * *

 

Kaiba rode in the car with them, Joey left behind at the mansion with the most affectionate gesture he’d ever seen the CEO give, honey eyes damp and just letting himself be dragged off by Mokuba who’d promised his brother to look after him while they were gone. The armoured vehicle, four-by-four, _thing,_ was pretty much empty apart from them, Kaiba’s private head of security, a man who said little and had biceps like tree-trunks sat in the front with the driver, divided from them by a thick partition of metal.

The other man in the back had been weirdly chatty, almost enthusiastic about the whole thing, tall gun propped up at his side seemingly not bothering him, running through the plan once more at Kaiba’s quiet order. It seemed he was new to the job and it was obvious in his almost childish excitement, though Bakura had to admit he preferred it to the stoic, moody silence of everybody else.

 

He wasn’t sure how long they drove for, the car didn’t have windows or if it did they were so well tinted and it was so dark outside he couldn’t see a thing, but finally there was a crunch of gravel and two taps on the partition announced they’d arrived.

“Now what?” Bakura didn’t leave any time for anybody to gather their wits about them, verbally pouncing the second the knock had sounded and they remained still, unable to hear anything outside, though knowing Kaiba this entire van was soundproof.

“Now we sit here patiently, and wait for my soldiers to do their jobs,” he had this specific, individual way of speaking that was both condescending, informative and bragging all at once, stressing certain words to mock whoever he was talking to while also not saying anything that could cause actual anger. It made something in Bakura’s skin itch and he just swallowed as he remembered again who this man was, what power he commanded at his young age, more than even the Pharaoh had back before the disaster of Kul Elna and the death of all he knew. Kaiba was dangerous, and what was worse was that he knew exactly how to use that to his advantage, he was a tactician, a logical planner where Bakura was an all guns blazing type of guy. Their contrast was almost designed to make them clash like sandpaper on skin.

“We just wait? You’re not bloody serious, that’s all we’re doing?”

“That’s the plan, yes. There is nothing we can do and arriving late means we won’t be able to intervene if anything goes wrong, like if they torch the building and try to burn everyone alive.”

“So what do we do if that happens?”

“I give the order to retreat, and I let you out early,” his eyes changed from narrowed with anger, from a thin scowling glare to wide open and lips parted in surprise, because that sounded like Kaiba would give him one more chance if that happened, to burst into a burning building in a last ditch effort to find and save Ryou before the flames took him. He hadn’t expected it, and he knew it was more an act of humanity, of faith in him, than it was a statement of how little he cared for the Thief’s life, as much as it might be that too. “Is that acceptable?”

“Yeah. But I’m wondering, how much of this was Joey’s idea?”

He actually bristled at that, straightening himself up haughtily and the soldier shooting nervous looks between them as if expecting them to suddenly begin brawling as if Seto Kaiba would do something so incredibly common. “Very little, actually.”

 

* * *

 

Waiting now was more painful than it had been any of this time so far, it got even worse when Kaiba did some kind of secret, coded knock on the front partition and it was swiftly rolled down, his head of security sitting there calmly. There was a short exchange of words, all questions, terse and to the point, answered with a ridiculously small selection of affirmative words and stiff, tense nods, so perfectly groomed and twisted into his role he was more robot than he was human.

“Then go.”

“Yes, Sir," another nod and perhaps the very faintest hint of a smile in his stoic, emotionless face, speaking to whomever might be listening, rattling off instructions and code names like it was all he knew, and maybe it was. "Operation Black Kite is live, Alpha squad, in positions, Beta, lock targets and Gamma, be watching the skies, you have approval to shoot anything down that approaches.”

There must have been some kind of control panel in the front, out of Bakura’s view, because various mechanically distorted voices filtered in one by one like something out of a movie though no movie could make his heart pound and his tongue dry like this did.

“Affirmative.”

“Roger that.”

“Squad Alpha is a go.”

 

* * *

 

It was like he wasn't there for however long this whole thing lasted, he heard Kaiba giving orders and Hayashi left the van soon after they arrived to lead the operation, he couldn't hear any gunfire, there was no yelling or panic, just a calm, tranquil environment in the van where they sat in their bubble of safety, Bakura just reminding himself how near he was to Ryou now.

Maybe an hour later, maybe four, he didn't know, the radio went quiet for a while then a final, coded message came through that he didn't understand, a list of casualties, details of injuries and the request for medics to get them out. It all seemed over already and Bakura didn't even hear his code word over the radio, only registered it was time when Kaiba finally focused onto him again, eyes cold and intense as always.

“Go, get in there. It’s your time to shine, Bakura,” the doors were opened and artificial light streamed in so bright he was blind even as he jumped out without thinking, without drawing his gun or realising that Kaiba had never called him by his name in a tone other than distain before. He just heard the crunch of his boots on the gravel, could vaguely make out the moon and a few dull, distant stars trying to glimmer amongst the rising of gun smoke he must be imagining and the sound of what couldn’t be Kaiba, yelling at him to go, go, go.

The van door slammed again and he was outside, taking a moment to take it all in, the large building that looked almost like a regular house, windows blocked up and seemingly abandoned, plants growing through cracks of what had been a paved street. There was a wide trench where the road had once existed, wires and pipes carrying electricity and water and who knew what else exposed to the night, flowers, small and delicate growing between them.

“Stick close to me, draw your weapon,” then a voice in his ear, not tinny through the headset and too clear, making his breath hitch nervously as the first hints of ridiculousness seeped into his skin, fingers fumbling on the popper that held his gun close to his hip. “Come on, we’re going in to assess the situation.”

It was the soldier from the van, all his joviality and cheerfulness dead and replaced with efficient, well trained expertise, nodding ahead with his gun, larger than Bakura’s and more likely some kind of machine gun than a single pistol, although he had a couple of those too. There was little more he could do than reply with one tense nod and follow along behind him, copying his slightly hunched in pose as if standing a single foot taller meant both their heads would be blown off, hoping absentmindedly that Kaiba’s snipers could recognise friend from foe.

There was little more to see on the way, the bright white light came from a single street lamp that on closer inspection was definitely both too new and too well maintained for it to not have been placed there deliberately. In fact the first sign that anything at all had gone wrong here were the empty casings of bullets on the floor, his feet neatly avoiding them, kicking one and it making a tinny sound as it rolled away across the uneven, cracked pavement. No bodies yet, but that could only be a blessing and he had a feeling it might be different inside, reaching the door too fast and Bakura tensed up by now, ready to just burst in and work stuff out from there.

But sharpshooter he was not and if he did that he’d likely end up shot or something else before he could so much as cock his gun let alone try to aim, so the soldier from the van, and he never had got a name, held out a hand to block him, speaking into his earpiece.

He’d been informed of his codename already, with great displeasure, so when it was repeated now in the very context it had been designed for, all he could do was roll his eyes and promise to ‘accidentally’ harm Kaiba at some point in the future.

“Dove is at the gate, repeat, Dove is at the gate. I need an all clear. Over.”

There was nothing but radio static and for some reason in those weirdly tense, anxiety inducing seconds, Bakura suddenly leaned forward and asked his name, the soldier not so much as turning, just waiting for the radio to crackle back into life, both of them hearing it in their earpieces.

“This is Swan to Keeper, you have the all clear. Lion has been subdued. Repeat, you have the all clear. Over.”

“Roger,” then turning to him with a small smile, maybe trying to relax him, or even trying to calm himself down before they went in and things actually got messy. “I’m Kou, and we got the all clear. Gun loaded?” He nodded a little too fast, fingers sweating on the device as Kou gave it a quick glance over and inclined his head in affirmation that all was well. “I’ll lead the way, stay close to me and follow my orders, understood?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s go.”

Back to that weird chirpiness now and he half wondered if he had some kind of split personality, reminding himself with a shake of the head that was not how things like that worked and that he’d undoubtedly been picked as his protector because of exactly that. His strange calmness at the whole thing was a little infectious and even as the door swung open and he could hear the sounds of carpet muffled footsteps and barks of military sounding orders, he felt at least like they were in control of the situation now.

 

* * *

 

The room inside was not what he’d expected, outside it looked abandoned and rundown so the last thing he’d expected was an almost modern warehouse space, walls painted cream up to a certain point where they turned into exposed brick and a series of gantry-like platforms stretched around the upper level. There was a ladder up in one corner, climbing up slowly with many corners and twists, guarded by two soldiers with their mouths and chins covered and large, heavy machine guns nestled in their arms threateningly.

There was a group of presumed captured thugs in one corner, none dressed like they’d been expecting it, in jeans and t-shirts, hoodies and sweatpants, almost more like they’d been sat around relaxing than planning for any sort of statistical takeover. There was a pack of cards spilled messily over the coffee table as if a game had been interrupted by gunfire halfway through, blood splattered across the glass surface becoming visible as they approached.

The entire place looked like the pad of a millionaire, carpet thick and completely muffling their footsteps, Hayashi coming to meet them, one arm leaking blood but seemingly not bothering him as he greeted them with a smile.

“The operation has been successful, Lion has been captured and subdued, we’re bringing him up shortly.”

“Ryou, what about Ryou?” Fuck Mariku, he could care less right now, a sudden, strange sense of dread had crawled into his bones and it was as familiar as it was foreign, almost like another small voice speaking in his head, projecting his feelings of terror and of things ending without either pretty or pleasing conclusions. His chest felt thick suddenly and he could barely hear the next words, understanding that they hadn’t even looked for Ryou and that this whole operation had been Kaiba’s way of dealing with a known human trafficker and general nuisance maker in the city he basically owned.

“We believe we know his location but are not yet certain, we need to deal with Lion then sweep the building and the basement room where we believe he is.”

“Once Lion is properly dealt with we will allow you to locate him, accompanied or not. But until then you need to follow the orders we were all given,” there was something both stern and understanding in Kou’s voice, clapping him on the back hard and other hand still clinging onto his gun as if all the threats hadn’t been neutralised. Bakura about to speak and ask how the operation had gone when a sudden burst of voices overlapping through his earpiece rendered him both deaf and suddenly feeling the gravitas of this whole thing. False security was never something he’d felt he had before but these days it was all he seemed to have, his defensiveness had all but wrinkled and died and the second he’d been told they were safe, he’d naively, stupidly believed it.

“Threat approaching main room, be on alert.”

“Single male target, believed armed.”

The sound of voices broke into reality and somehow that was worse, fingers ready on his gun now even as he was shoved behind the bodies of both Hayashi and Kou as if they were prepared to be human shields for him, as if they weren’t all equally covered in Kevlar. They pointed both themselves and their guns at the passageway out of the room, a long, thin corridor where the lights were suspiciously turned off, warm orange-yellow glow from the main room dying out as the plush carpet did.

He was bracing himself, gun set to fire when it might need to and not even concerned that he might either witness or commit a murder in seconds, he was here for Ryou, not for himself of for Kaiba or anybody else. If he had to kill to get him back, or see somebody be killed he didn't care, it would all be worth it in the end to know he was safe and back where he belonged.

 

* * *

 

Nobody expected it, not even the trained soldiers, not even Hayashi himself, when the rogue member of Mariku’s team suddenly appeared on the gantry high above them, giving himself a perfect bird’s eye view of those spread out below him. The sudden burst of gunfire drew all heads and if he could have put the feeling of the room into words it would have been nothing but cursing, lone shooter hiding behind a thin but effective column of metal their bullets would only ricochet off.

It would be illogical if Mariku’s men hadn’t had their own orders, so when he stepped out from behind his shield and aimed right at him, Bakura wasn’t surprised even as he knew he should be, raising his own gun but knowing he couldn’t make the shot. It was too far and his aim wasn’t exactly perfect, feeling the recoil as he shot but not the bang, arm jerking backwards and gasping at the sudden power of it, the jolt in his shoulder and the spreading warmth in his bicep

“Take him down, TAKE HIM DOWN!”

There was screaming, soldiers were running along the gantry, trying to get to him, trying to reach his side so he couldn’t hide from them, the man ducking out and firing off random shots that didn’t hit anybody but often came close. Bakura just being shoved back and wondering why the mood was suddenly more serious, hearing his own code name in his headset but the sound of yelling and orders and gunfire too loud for him to work out what was going on.

Everywhere he looked guns were firing, taking chunks out of the brickwork above his head, the last fighter and the one who had decided not to come quietly, then he was ambushed and there were three if not more guns on him, raising his arms as if in surrender, dropping his gun to the ground.

The voices in his headset were calmer now, “target down,” “threat has been neutralised,” “lock down is in effect.” He didn’t know what some of it meant but he did know they were safe now if not on alert again, Kou giving him a worried look he didn’t quite understand because he was fine apart from maybe a wrenched shoulder where he’d shot too haphazardly and pulled muscles.

“Bring him down here,” that was Hayashi, reloading his gun efficiently and empty bullet casings littering the floor by his feet, soldiers grabbing the shooter roughly and all but pushing him down the stairs, nobody even questioning how he’d gotten up there in the first place.

 

* * *

 

They’d given him something again, after things had started getting noisy, somebody he didn’t care to recognise had grabbed him by the chin and forced a pill into his mouth, held his nose until he’d been forced to swallow it down. They’d aimed a kick at him before they left but he’d squirmed away and all they did was laugh, it made sense, he was pitiful after all, a real wretch of a human left here to rot with nobody to save him.

They’d kicked in by the time he heard stamping footsteps and bangs he knew he should recognise, he just lay down on the floor and closed his eyes, letting his head spin until he fell into half sleep, head lolling against the wall and sitting himself back up as his stomach evacuated onto the floor.

 

* * *

 

“Cuff him and dump him over there, do a weapons check,” the soldiers didn’t even nod, they just began doing as they were told, patting him down and his hands still raised over his head, expression too smug and making Bakura’s feeling of fear rise because that wasn’t right. He’d been captured, he shouldn’t look so pleased about it, some strange, sudden sense in him making him raise his eyes to the walkway above, empty of soldiers now.

He barely had time to cry out, to send a warning to the others before he had a gun pointed at him from far above and he could almost see the finger that pulled the trigger, could track the bullet that came whizzing towards him too fast to stop, that tore into the soft tissues of his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr @ [motorcycle-chan](http://motorcycle-chan.tumblr.com)
> 
> Next chapter is being uploaded on the 28th


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of this was written a long time ago (literally months ago) so if there are sudden shifts in writing style or skill that's why

He’d never been a particularly poetic man, and anybody who knew him even a little could attest to that, but if he had to describe this pain a million adjectives would suddenly come screaming into his mind almost as his mouth opened to do the same. Searing, tearing, ripping, burning, scalding. Yet strangely the second he’d been blown backwards by the sudden, unexpected shot of gunfire, wait, _shots,_ the pain had died and he’d raised his gun too late to do anything, his assailant not getting time to cry out before red spattered the wall behind him and he was down.

“Trainer to Jackdaw, target has been eliminated, Dove is injured, I repeat, Dove is injured, requesting backup.”

“Leave him there, backup is on the way, stay on guard,” he recognised the voice, snappy, harder than he’d heard it, blinking absently as another soldier came up to him, grabbing him by the arm that didn’t hang limply by his side, saying something he couldn’t hear. There was golden blonde in his peripheral and he heard the command pass through the chain, lockdown all exits, marksmen to change their target, Lion had been spotted.

Everything in him froze, nothing in his vision or his thoughts other than Mariku, stood there and regarding the armed, highly trained forces as if he was only mildly inconvenienced by them, actually daring to tut in displeasure as he toed at his fluffy rug.

“I hope you plan to compensate me for this, it’s real fur,” only after he’d spoken did his gaze turn to Bakura, regarding his increasingly wet sleeve with absent amusement, lip twitching into a half smile and adjusting to lean on the other leg, gunmen following his every breath. He just stared at him, blinking slowly and raising an unimpressed eyebrow as he stepped forwards to meet him, handle of his gun getting sticky with drying fluid, shifting his grip and swallowing hard as he decided to talk first and act later for once.

“I guess crime does pay,” Bakura remarked calmly, though his insides were screaming at him, warm blood trickling down his arm dripping from his fingertips to stain the already destroyed rug he stood on, trying not to sway with the increasing dizziness overwhelming his body. All he could think of was Ryou, was he near? Were they even in the right place? This lavish, modern space was not what he had expected from Mariku’s secret hideout, but then the other Egyptian had always managed to surprise him, just smirking as if there weren’t at least ten guns on him and spreading his arms proudly.

“You’d know, _Thief_.” His remark was barbed, because after all hadn’t Bakura himself just committed a crime to earn some easy money? Losing his Hikari and part of himself, both literally and not, in the process, sacrificing something huge in return for money that seemed less than useless in comparison. “You like it?”

“Very tasteful,” he smiled, but there was ice in his eyes and this small talk was driving him crazy. He knew the compound was surrounded, Kaiba had assured him so multiple times, to his knowledge there was even a helicopter surveying the air around it in case they tried to escape by air, something he wouldn’t put past Mariku. But his mind still told him that the other was stalling for time, distracting him while somebody dispatched or transported Ryou somewhere else, hid him away where he couldn’t find him. He forced himself to take a deep breath, remembering the solid weight of the gun in his hand, utterly glad Kaiba had finally caved and allowed him to have one too, hoping his rushed training would suffice. If it was up to him he’d use a knife, slowly bleed him out until he was begging for death, carve letters into his skin then watch as he squirmed and screamed and pleaded with him, he’d show no mercy and enjoy watching the life in his eyes die as he did.

But no, Kaiba had informed him that he should immobilize Mariku and let him be jailed, and live a comfortable life in a prison he easily had the contacts to escape from, or dispatch him quickly, one bullet, straight through his forehead if he could, in the heart if not. Problem was, Bakura was almost certain he didn’t have a heart, so how could he aim for something that didn’t exist?

“Where is he?” His voice was demanding, but Mariku just tilted his head to one side, smirk so smug Bakura wanted to beat it off his face with the butt of his gun, hands twitching on the cool metal. He’d never even shot a gun until Kaiba finally caved and insisted he get proper training, and only now was he aware what a deadly weapon he held in his hands, heavier and somehow more intimidating than his daggers, although he’d brought those too, of course.

“Who? Oh, the little creampuff,” His answer was as cocky as Bakura had come to expect, and he noticed the unnerved wave travelling through the men who surrounded them in a ring, guns shifting uneasily at his calm attitude. Bakura bristled at the use of the nickname, because how dare he use it now, after all this, use it like he’d always used to before this mess, to make it sound like he might actually care about somebody other than himself. It made Bakura feel sick, gun a reassuring weight in his hands, finger resting by the trigger, remembering what he’d been taught, fifteen rounds to one clip, so fifteen shots before he had to slide in the one of the other two that were attached to his belt. “He’s not here.”

Bakura’s hand slipped, gun sliding down between his fingers for a second, hastily correcting the slip up but knowing Mariku had seen, chill travelling through the floor and up to his chest where it settled unnervingly. But no, he didn’t believe him, aggressive stance making him feel bigger and the others lack of weapon reminding him that he was still in control, he could keep Mariku alive as long as he wanted, or he could fire a single, well-aimed bullet and kill him instantly.

“Bullshit,” he spat, lips twisted into a snarl, flicking the safety off his gun deliberately slowly, remembering what the trainer had told him, red equals dead, it was terribly fitting. He hadn’t cocked it yet, but that could wait until this bastard started telling the truth, at the very least he might have to kneecap him. In fact the idea was growing increasingly tempting the more he stared at his smug asshole face, somehow still managing to taunt him even though he had the clear disadvantage. One wrong move and he’d be shot so many times he’d be unrecognisable, so his unflappable demeanour was unnerving, although he could be doing it on purpose to psyche them out, he wouldn’t be surprised. “Where is he?”

He sighed as if disappointed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and raising an amused eyebrow as the men surrounding him moved accordingly, guns still trained on him without waving, unlike Bakura’s pistol which seemed to shake in his hands. “Come now Thief, by now you surely know my line of business,” he spoke like they were friends having a polite conversation in a coffee shop, authoritative aura always surrounding him just making Bakura’s heart beat rise erratically, sweat breaking out on his forehead. “Ryou’s been gone a while, sent him off in a lorry couple of days ago. Don’t worry though Thief, he’s going somewhere nice and warm.”

If he knew he could get away with it he’d drop the fucking gun and rip a chunk out of his neck instead, but the plan was clear, they were here to save Ryou and either capture or kill Mariku, Seto had been deliberately vague about that. He was either to kill him cleanly and in such a way there’d be no debate as to his identity, or to let him live, and the second option was just fucking illogical, this bastard deserved to die, that much was clear, and the Thief was going to be the one to do it.

“I doubt if you’ll ever find him now, got a good price for him though. Pretty little thing like him, they just snapped him up,” his leer was spiteful and his lip twisted in amusement as Bakura’s hands shook, barely feeling the blood on his arm and hands suddenly steady on the gun.

It was obvious nobody expected it when he took aim and fired, jolt of the gun sending a shock of electric pain through his arm and shoulder and making him grunt even as Mariku’s roar of pain tore through the room.

The bullet had torn straight through his hand, leaving a messy hole as it cut through his palm and fingers, slamming through bones so badly they wouldn’t be fixable and rendering his trigger finger useless whether he had a weapon concealed or not. He hadn’t really aimed for there, he’d intended on grazing his side, but his hands were shaking and had slid on the grip, slick with blood he for a moment couldn’t remember the source of, shock and adrenaline burning through his lungs and hiding the pain for now.

He exhaled shakily, not sure why there were lights dancing in front of his eyes, just seeing pools of red everywhere he looked, against the wall in twisted artistic patterns, on fingers and small flecks on faces and unguarded hands. But Mariku barely flinched, just examining his destroyed hand with a distant expression, as if it wasn’t even attached to him, as if he wouldn’t almost certainly lose a finger if not two. Rolling his eyes as if his act of displeasure had been nothing more than a child throwing a tantrum, continuing to speak, to goad him in that silky smooth voice like he was still in control here.

“Ironic, isn’t it, how well he reacts to drugs. How compliant he gets, how he’ll do anything you want with just one little pill,” Bakura’s jaw was set like rock and he just stared across the room at him, feeling the sickening, slow trickle of blood down his arm and wondering how he was even keeping the gun held up. “He’s so _soft_ , Thief. But then you wouldn’t know that, would you? So innocent and warm and naive. Really he made quite a good pet, but I’m surprised you put this much effort into getting him back, I never did think you much cared for him.”

He wondered if he wanted to die, if he was doing all this to bring the end closer instead of prolonging it as he’d initially suspected, but his arm was beginning to throb the longer he held it still and he could see Hayashi’s eyes flitting between them, ready to take over if Bakura didn’t act.

“Follow your orders,” through the headset but it was like Mariku had heard, like Kaiba knew what he wanted to do, reaching up with his free hand to rip out the stupid device, landing wetly in the pool of red soaking into the Italian carpet his feet sunk into. Three things happened at once then, Mariku began laughing, Hayashi began giving orders to his soldiers to incapacitate and capture him, and Bakura pulled the trigger just once.

He screamed, actually screamed, a roar of agony that seemed to set every one of Bakura’s hairs on end, stumbling onto his knees and collapsing to the ground, not complaining about getting his carpet dirty now. His shattered hand came to clutch where the bullet had lodged inside him, thick, almost gloopy blood trickling through the gaps in his fingers where he pressed them against his stomach, voice quieting down to growls and the closest noise to a whimper he’d ever make.

Bakura’s hand was shaking but he could lower his gun now, adrenaline, shock and a million other things making his mind forget the pain of his wounds, because now he could see there were two, the first having hit without him even registering it, through the soft skin of his upper arm. A flesh wound, nothing in comparison to Mariku’s which would slowly leak blood until he died, either that or he’d be taken to hospital and would die of infection from the bacteria in his stomach or bowel seeping into his wound.

His face was damp with sweat and his tanned skin had grown pale when he looked up, trying to smile smugly but not quite managing as he heaved for breath, panting between bloodless lips and eyes too wide, maybe afraid for the first time. “Too scared to finish me off, Thief?”

His voice was weak and Bakura wasn’t afraid of him anymore, not that he ever had been really, wary, yes, but he’d never been scared, lowering his gun and ignoring the soldiers who were staring at him nervously, who had seen him blatantly ignore his orders, break the link with the man in charge.

“It takes up to half an hour to bleed out from a stomach wound. I suggest you pray it’s quick,” he was tempted, so tempted to step forwards and kick him right where his bullet had torn, but he was in enough pain to satisfy him already and besides, if he died too early it would be useless.

“I’m not a praying man,” he replied, and it was still horribly serene, like he knew something he shouldn’t, like he expected to be reborn again, or to be rescued at the last possible minute even though the longer he stayed there, breath wheezing, the less chance he had of surviving.

“Where’s Ryou?” It wasn’t a question, it was a demand, he knew he was bullshitting it was obvious in his eyes even as they grew duller and the blood soaking his shirt didn’t hesitate in flowing out, swallowing thickly and giving one last smirk.

“He’s below you, Thief. You can do so much better.”

“I don’t have time for riddles,” Mariku didn’t respond, just staring blankly at him, eyes glazed over and hand flopping from his stomach to hang weakly at his side, heavy body collapsing to the floor and chest barely rising and falling. He’d been lucky and unconsciousness had claimed him, the ultimate unfairness and Bakura was angry even as the soldiers guarding him drew back, one chosen to assess his state, deeming him incapacitated and issuing orders Bakura didn’t, couldn’t hear.

There’d been the tiniest, faintest ripple in his mind that he recognised and he’d set off running in its direction before he even worked out what it was, what it could mean, registering only now that the dread he’d felt hadn’t been his own, it had been Ryou’s. He could hear voices yelling after him and a crackle of static that bore into his head like a burrowing insect, feeling confusion and disorientation flow into his head and making him feel suddenly dizzy, ending up at the end of the dark hallway where only a dull, worn metal staircase remained.

 

* * *

 

 

“Jackdaw to Hawk, Where is he?” A snap, but with more nervousness than he’d wanted to convey, feeling anxiety flow through him as Bakura refused to answer his damned demands for updates, he had the feeling something like this would happen but he hadn’t really planned for it. He supposed if he died it couldn’t rest on his conscience, he’d disobeyed direct orders after all, he couldn’t be held liable for that, except maybe by Joey, but he pushed that to the back of his mind.

“Dove has gone rogue, Lion is incapacitated.”

“How?”

“Gunshot wound to the abdomen.”

“Is he dead?” He knew they were trained to give specific answers, but sometimes the procedures meant he was left more confused than he was be before asking the question, incapacitated could have several meanings and he wanted specifics so he could work out what to do next.

“Negative, Sir, just unconscious.”

“How long until he is?”

“Twenty minutes max.”

“Any chance of escape?”

“Medics are putting survival rate at 12%,” an oddly specific number, in fact it was so specific Kaiba seriously doubted it was anything more than a total guess designed to sound professional, accepting though that he could pretty much be left to die without any risk of escape.

“Leave two guarding him, get the others out and transported to the station. Leave Ba- Dove to find Lamb, have medics ready and waiting.”

“Affirmative.”

Then the signal cut out and he was left to sit there, examining the screens that flooded the front of the van and flitting through the tablet, reading the updated medical report. Four of their own injured, one with life threatening gunshot wounds, the others injuries no less serious but having no major risk to their lives, they’d already been patched up and Gamma squad were preparing to airlift them to his hospital. He’d been told he was being too cautious when he ordered two air ambulances to wait nearby in case of emergency evacuations, but he’d known they’d be necessary, Mariku wasn’t some neighbourhood thug, he was part of an organised crime ring and they wouldn’t go down easily.

But there wasn’t much he could do now, Major Hayashi was in control of their ground based operation and the snipers jobs were all but done now, just watching the surrounding area in case they had secret escape points.

All he could do was sit back, relax, and hope that Bakura would find Ryou and escape unscathed, or no more than he was now, wondering absently how badly he was wounded, having not received any more detail after the initial report came in and backup had arrived.

 

* * *

 

 

His fingers slipped on the handrail and he almost fell the last few steps, spiral staircase and the strange drugged nausea making his stomach twist almost as nastily as Mariku’s must be, feeling the out of control sensation heightening as he staggered down the dimly lit hallway.

It was lit with old fashioned strip light, covered in protective cages and throwing, dim, flickering light down onto the neatly built hallway, ceiling curved over his head into an arch and doors leading off in either direction occasionally. Even down here there were signs of a scuffle, stepping weakly over shattered glass and tunnel dimming under the busted light where a bullet had ricocheted off the wall and presumably into somebody, small flecks of blood patterning the rough wall.

The other doors were all open, light streaming out and Bakura not feeling any need to examine them, he knew where Ryou was now, he could sense him, there was a distant, dull feeling of recognition, as if he’d realised Bakura was near, as if he could hear him approaching.

 

The air smelled staler suddenly, scent of sweat and iron filling his nostrils and eyes trying hard to adjust to the dimness in here, flickering around frantically to find the source of the alarmed, spiking thoughts he could feel surround him like a thick blanket. He felt like he was suffocating under it already and he’d only had to deal with it for a few minutes, let alone the weeks Ryou had been here, at least two if not more.

Then he spotted him, a dimmed spot of white hair in amongst the dark, unfurnished room, leaning against the wall and his head flopped back, loose on his neck like it didn’t have the strength to support him. Hearing the door push open with a long, low creak and opening his hazy eyes, Bakura able to see even from several feet away that something was wrong, that his gaze didn’t quite see him.

 

* * *

 

 

His first thought was to slap him, to get up, pace across the room calmly, then slap him with all his strength, he probably would have done if his limbs didn’t feel like lead and he was still dealing with the fizzling tablet in his stomach. But no, he deserved worse than that, how could he have lied to him like that? Putting his own life on the line was one thing, but risking Ryou’s, having him as some sick reward like the prize of a bet, was not okay and he had to make the Thief realize that.

But oh god he was scared, his hands were shaking and he was so cold, his legs quaked under him as he managed to stand, wiping dirty strands of hair away from his eyes as they slid across the room to stare at his feet. Not his face, he didn’t think he could stand to look him in the eyes. He could feel his presence as he lingered in the doorway, silhouetted by the light from the hallway beyond like some movie hero, come to rescue his damsel in distress and save the day. But this was no movie, and Ryou was not anybody’s damsel. Bakura certainly wasn’t a hero, he was scum. He had lied to Ryou for months, dragged him into something he had no need to be involved in, had risked getting him sent to jail, or killed, or worse. He had betrayed Ryou in the cruelest way possible, worming his way back into his life as a reformed character, an abuser who had realized the folly of their ways and wanted to make things right, and Ryou had let him. He had put on an elaborate ruse, making up for years of abuse and neglect with movie night cuddled on the sofa and take-away pizza and noodles, with hugs and kisses on the forehead before he went to sleep. But he could feel his eyes filling with tears as the feet blurred and distorted, light flickering and fading as the figure stepped forwards, shoes shuffling nervously over the harsh stone floor.

“Ry?” The voice was a soft whisper, filled with despair and horror and so caring that it made Ryou sick. Where had his care been before? When he involved him in a drug deal and basically handed him over to a sadistic lunatic with an unhealthy obsession for him? This care was as false as every word he’d ever said before, he was a Thief, and Thieves could not be trusted.

He didn’t answer, he couldn’t trust his voice not to crack and he would not, could not show weakness in front of him, not now, not ever again. He ignored the hot tears leaking down his face now, not entirely sure why he was crying, at Bakura’s betrayal, or at finally being freed. Maybe both. But he hated himself for crying one single tear over that worthless bastard, shrinking back against the rough wall as he walked closer, slowly, like he was approaching a wounded animal. A horribly appropriate metaphor for Ryou’s current state.

He hated him, hated him more than he’d ever hated anything before. But as he walked nearer his scent filled Ryou’s nose, blood and iron and, with a hitch in his breathing, home. The smell radiated warmth and safety and a feeling of finally belonging somewhere, it made him nostalgic and homesick and so very tired. He opened his mouth and the shaky, wet breath that left it rang loudly in the silent room, it sounded childish, and hurt and weary. He closed his eyes as the figure blocked out all the light, leaving him once again in the darkness he had begun to grow accustomed to. One sense cut off, the others crashed over him like a tsunami, the familiar scent flooding his nose and the feeling of heat approaching his skin making the air between them sizzle. He flinched as a hand touched his cheek, whisper soft, barely brushing the pasty skin, pad of a familiar thumb running across the dark circles under his eye, wiping away his tears.

He was terrified, it was obvious in his frozen frame and the way his breathing hitched and sputtered every time Bakura moved his hand over his face, brushing a cut that looked red and inflamed against the black bruise that surrounded it.

“Ry, open your eyes.” Bakura urged, hand cupping his cold cheek, the other hanging uselessly by his side. “Look at me, I need...”

What was he going to say? I need to know you’re alright? I need to know that the boy I knew is still there, hidden under layers of hurt and pain and loneliness, but still there, buried somewhere and just waiting to be freed. His voice stilted, breaking up on the words he didn’t know how to say, swallowing thickly as the lids lifted and familiar chocolate brown eyes looked up at him. They were glazed over with tears and had lost their shine, but oh he knew them so well, unable to read the myriad of emotions that swirled in them. They looked empty, and exhausted, and done, like a child who was out of energy and just longed for their bed, pupils blown huge with the drugs he had to have in his system to make him seem so doll-like and absent.

“Oh Ry...” Bakura whispered, face crumpling as Ryou’s head fell forwards to rest on Bakura’s chest, his hands coming to fist in his t-shirt, winding into the material like it was a life line as he finally recognized something familiar and refused to let go. Bakura’s arms were around him before he even registered what he was doing, damage control was the last thing on his mind as Ryou just pressed his face into his chest, eyes shut and shaking, body covered in a faint sheen of sweat and swaying where he stood.  He smelt of iron and Bakura could feel an unnervingly sticky patch on his back, praying it wasn’t blood from some unknown injury he could feel under his fingers.

“Ry, I’m so sorry. I... I didn’t… I never wanted you to get hurt. I’m so, so sorry.” His voice was trembling as he pulled the boy closer towards him, hugging him so tight it probably hurt, he needed to know Ryou was there, alive and breathing right in front of him. Wanted to surround him with his arms and just hold him, to have him closer than he already was, pressed up to his chest. “I’m sorry.”

 

* * *

 

 

The rest was a blur, picking him up into his arms, adrenaline and a sudden burst of hope flooding him and releasing endorphins that flooded his damaged arm and gave him the jolt of strength he needed to lift his dead-weight body. He wasn’t unconscious but there was something dull and dead behind his eyes, pupils blown huge and brown almost entirely taken over by the black that regarded him as if seeing somebody unfamiliar, as if he was a stranger.

He must have blacked out as he got up the stairs, feeling tacky blood drying on his arm and matting into Ryou’s hair as he adjusted him, numbness and tingling flooding into his fingertips, almost forgetting he’d been shot until he stumbled the last steps into the main room and the lighting flooded him.

There had been a low babble of official talk, some concerned voices and some tired but pleased with a well-executed mission, Mariku’s body covered with some kind of sheet now, blood staining the material in a wide circle and his real fur rug utterly destroyed now. But then a couple of people noticed him and he wondered how he must look, stood there in the mouth of the passageway, face and body streaked with blood and hair matted with it, face pale, eyes wet and clutching Ryou in his arms. Like something out a movie, the brave hero who had saved the day, nobody mentioning that he was the one who had caused the trouble in the first place, just stood there in his bullet-torn combat uniform.

Then somebody had nudged Kou or he’d seen himself and he was stepping forwards and Bakura had staggered back, feeling light headed and the mind link too quiet for him to like it, clutching Ryou to his chest like he was all he had left.

“This is Keeper to Jackdaw, Lamb and Dove are back, repeat, Lamb has been rescued. We need medical support immediately, repeat, immediate medical support required,” he hadn’t been this urgent yet all operation, speaking fast and promptly, demanding they be given help now and if that wasn’t a sign to how fucked up they both must look Bakura didn’t know what was.

“Copy that, medics are on the way.”

The walkie-talkie was lowered then and Kou was approaching, the Thief backing away because blood loss and lightheadedness and the slow death of the exhilaration that had taken away the pain were combining now, making him delirious and confused.

“Bakura, let me take him.” He shook his head, pulling him closer into his body and feeling new wetness seep down his arm, closing his eyes for a long second to try and stave off the blackness that filtered into the edges of his vision like an encroaching storm. “He’s fine now, we need to get you both to hospital, come on.”

He paused, expression distrusting as he reached forwards, fingertips touching Ryou’s side and once again, two things happened at once, Bakura’s knees buckled and he almost fell, landing heavily against the wall on his damaged arm, streaking blood all the way down. Then he gave in, letting Kou take Ryou from his arms, holding him carefully, examining his face, feeling over his nose for breath and gesturing for somebody else to help the Thief up.

 

* * *

 

 

He’d blacked out again, or maybe just forgotten, because the next thing he knew all he could see of Ryou was a mop of messy white hair spread out on a stretcher, small body swarmed by people checking his pulse and shining light into his eyes. They were in the air and he had the odd feeling that as long as he could see Ryou everything would be fine, head trying to loll back, fighting unconsciousness and trying to bat away the mask-covered man who easily injected something into his arm, speaking words to him he couldn’t understand.

Ryou was alive, and he was free, and that was all he could ask for, the painkillers lulling him to sleep were just a bonus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter up on the 11th September


	26. Chapter 26

It wasn’t the first time in his life that he’d woken up to the sound of monitors beeping and the gentle hum of medical equipment, looking down to his hand with head throbbing and eyes gunky with sleep, trailing over the needle taped into his wrist leading up to an IV bag of unidentifiable fluid.

  
There was some kind of button under the fingers of the other hand and he could work out only two purposes, to send a jolt of painkiller through the IV to calm the aching throb of his shoulder, or to alert nurses he was awake. Either would do as either would lead to some kind of freedom from the sharp pain he felt when he tried to move even a little, turning his neck slowly and gasping at the pain as he could finally see his shoulder.

  
The upper half of his chest was bandaged thickly, keeping his entire shoulder covered, white gauze wrapping round to halfway down his arm and able to see a couple of thick gauze pads under their protective covering.

He couldn’t though, see Ryou, and that was why he pressed the button, feeling no relief and certain now that it was a call button, knowing for definite when not only a white coat wearing doctor entered the room, but Seto Kaiba and Joey too.

  
“Bakura! How ya feelin’?” He understood better now the many dog related jokes the CEO made as he bounded up to the bed, blonde hair bouncing like a coat of fur and eyes wide and excited, seemingly thrilled everything seemed to be okay now and if he had a tail he was sure it would be wagging madly. It was either the drug haze or the remnants of pain that gave him the idea, but suddenly he had the mad desire to pat him on the head or ruffle his hair, blinking the thought away with his stupid question and swallowing dryly.

  
“Like complete shit, where’s Ry?”

  
“Next door, they gave him some stuff ta make him sleep.”

  
“Is he okay?” It was hard to speak and his voice came out breathy and weak, swallowing often and mouth dry, feeling both condescended and grateful when the blonde raised a plastic tumbler of water to his lips, tipping it back slowly so he could swallow.

  
Joey just looked to the doctor then, eyes flickering over his bandages and twisting his lips nervously, not chewing now but then Ryou was safe and Bakura wasn’t dead yet so he had little reason to feel worried, metaphorical tail slowing its wag and falling between his legs to twitch uncertainly.

“Physically he’s in a much better state than you. However, we found traces of ketamine in his bloodstream, fairly high quantities by the looks of it though we believe it was administered orally several hours ago now. He’s been sedated and is on an IV drip to replace nutrients he’s lost during his time in the basement, we also gave him a physical examination.”

  
“Wait, isn’t ketamine the horse tranquiliser?” He’d never really dealt that much stuff on the street, just what he could get, normally a lot of weed and the occasional bits of cocaine or MDMA, depended what he could get his hands on, so he didn’t have much experience with ketamine and had never intended to.

  
“That is one use yes, it’s a dissociative tranquiliser, often used as a party drug or during date rapes,” he spoke like he was reading directly from a medical manual, the green eyes on him not warm or reassuring but not cold and hard either, they were just nothing and Bakura was sure doctors were supposed to be nicer than this, to deliver such serious news with some kind of bedside manner.

  
“What are you saying?”

  
Then for the first time he paused, turning from the monitor he’d been pressing buttons on, making a note on the clipboard he held with a pen that almost looked gold plated, not that Bakura would be remotely surprised if it was. “I’m not sure you need to hear this now, perhaps we should wait until your condition is more stable and-“

  
“Fuck my condition, tell me what’s going on!” He should have thought it through because he could see Joey looking between the unnamed doctor and Kaiba nervously and their hands had found each other, CEO’s face as cold and impassive as ever even as his thumb rubbed across Joey’s tanned hands soothingly. But he was tired and he hurt everywhere and the whole reason he was like this was because he’d gone to try and rescue Ryou, the least they could do was tell him if he was okay, if he was hurt anywhere or if they’d found any signs of abuse other than the obvious ones he’d been able to see.

  
The clipboard was slotted onto the end of his bed with a metallic clang that made his teeth ache and he was speaking even before Bakura realised he didn’t want to know, the expressions of the other two were too serious for it to be anything minor. But the Doctor had been told to tell, so he did, tone clipped and efficient, almost cold as he regarded the man who had just shouted at him, who lay there unable to move and was still demanding even after all that had been done for him. “There are signs of rape, both internally and externally. He also has some internal tears which suggest this may not have been a one off event.”

  
There it was, laid out in plain, simple English and delivered as if explaining the opening hours of a grocery store, as if the blow didn’t knock the air out of his lungs and render him speechless, as if his mind wasn’t suddenly empty of everything before it all screeched back in and he couldn’t hear anything. The monitor was suddenly too loud, jabbing into his skull and he could hear Joey’s nervous shuffling, the smell of disinfectant and blood and death that always came with hospitals was burning his nostrils and he felt sick.

  
He just said it, like he was used to telling people their best friends, the people they cared about had been raped, like it was normal and not something life changing and horrible and earth shattering, like he didn’t know it was all Bakura’s fault. A sudden enormous, crushing wave of dizziness suddenly struck him and all he could do was squeeze his eyes shut and wait for it to pass, chest tight and more agonising than the holes he knew had been shot through him. This was his fault, if he’d never agreed to this stupid deal, if he hadn’t put money, fucking money, above Ryou this never would have happened and he wouldn’t have ruined his whole life.

  
“He’s awake, the drugs are out of his system and he doesn’t seem to be in too much pain so-“ He could feel the desire to snap on Joey’s face, biting his lip hard and fighting the urge to yell, to say that oh great, as long as he’s not in pain it’s all fine, everything is okay now no need to worry, he’s awake and everything is golden, but he bit it back as Bakura did, looking away with hard eyes.

  
“Can I see him?”

  
“I don’t think it’s a goo-“

  
Not a good idea, that was what he was going to say, but fuck that, fuck this doctor and this hospital and fuck Mariku who might not even be dead, and fuck his own stupid decisions and everything that had happened. He’d done this all for Ryou, got shot for Ryou, gotten people injured for him, ended up in hospital, he’d saved him and good idea or not, he needed to know he was okay. His yell hurt his shoulder and it ended with a grunt of pain and a hissed, shaky exhale even as the doctor remained incredibly, unflappably calm, just pressing a button on the machine and sending what had to be morphine into his system, feeling a strange flow of warmth. “I need to see him!”

  
“Bakura, maybe you should-“

  
“He doesn’t want to see you,” Kaiba again, speaking over Joey who looked more worried than offended, just shrinking into himself and regarding Bakura with apologetic, baleful honey eyes, his boyfriend’s tone softening the tiniest bit as he finished and the room grew silent. “He said so himself.”

  
“Alright, fine, so I won’t see him. But where the fuck are we? How long have we been here and what did you wankers do to my bloody arm?”

  
Kaiba just rolled his eyes, presumably less than impressed at his language and rudeness, but Bakura could clearly give less of a shit and just glared up at the doctor who calmly handed him his chart as if he could read the handwriting scrawled across it.

  
“We’re in Moku General Hospital, in a private ward, Ryou is just a couple of rooms away. You’ve been here for almost three days,” his heart stopped again, the monitor registering the change of heart rate with a slightly slower series of beeps, but the doctor didn’t falter, flipping the chart over to show a neatly typed list of treatment he’d presumably needed. “You were unconscious when you arrived, you needed a blood transfusion and emergency surgery. Your shoulder and arm were pierced by two bullets, one of which remained wedged in your shoulder just next to the brachial plexus and needed to be removed. The other was lower down your arm and travelled straight through your bicep about two centimetres deep, that’s been cleaned and closed up.”

  
“So you took it out and that was it?” It was obvious he was using simple language so he understood, glancing over the charts list and knowing what less than half of it meant, things about heart rate and SAT levels and crap like that meaning absolutely nothing to him but assuming it was bad.

  
“It was surgically removed and the surgery fixed the damaged blood vessels. As I mentioned, the bullet hit the brachial plexus, which is a bundle of nerves that control your arm, the impact caused some of them to tear away from your spine. We did our best in surgery to reattach them but there is still a chance you’ll need several follow up surgeries and possibly even a tendon transplant to ensure you regain full movement.”

  
“What do you mean, regain full movement? How fucked up is my arm?”

  
“The damage is extensive, at best you’ll have a fully functioning arm with minor nerve damage, so your arm will likely remain numb to some level for the rest of your life. At the worst your arm may end up fully disabled, you may lose some range of movement or have trouble with more delicate movements, in your fingers and wrist for example.”

  
“Right, so basically my arm is fucked then,” strangely he wasn’t that bothered, sure, he liked using both his arms, but he had the feeling they’d pumped him full of medication and he was still probably in shock to some level, sure the news would sink in fully later.

  
“Not necessarily, as I said we still need to do more surgeries and recovery is very possible. We need to keep both you and your… friend, here for up to a month to maintain your conditions closely. You are lucky in one sense, which is that the bullet missed both the brachial artery and only just hit the subclavian artery, meaning the blood loss was far less than it could have been. However your shoulder is all but shattered and your collarbone is broken, you have severe bruising, both internal and external. It’s going to be a long recovery process, but you will recover.”

  
“A month?”

  
“It’s not strictly necessary for Ryou, but Mr. Kaiba insisted upon it for both of you.”

  
“Right, so what’s this thing?” Here he gestured to the tube that seemed to have been inserted into the right side of his chest, having only noticed it when he moved his legs cautiously and feeling rather nervous as his eyes tracked the tube to some kind of console on the floor.

  
“That’s your chest tube, the gunshot also gave you a pneumothorax.”

  
Bakura just blinked at him, thinking he may as well have said he had a funky liver for all he’d understood that, surprised when it was Kaiba that clarified for him, rolling his eyes and seeming a little annoyed at the doctor who he presumably employed. “Collapsed lung, please use simpler words.”

  
“Yes, I apologise. As Mr. Kaiba said, you also have a collapsed lung, this tube allows any fluid that may have built up to drain and will… refill the lung, for lack of a better word. You’re on intravenous antibiotics to kill any infection the bullet or clothing in the wound may have left and another IV for fluids to stabilise your blood level. Your shoulder has been immobilised so it can begin to heal by itself but once again, follow up surgery will likely be required to remove any shards of bone left behind.”

  
“Are you done or is there more?”

  
“That’s it, it sounds like a lot and I’m aware it must be very distressing,” Bakura actually raised an eyebrow at that, closing his eyes and reopening them quietly, wondering how he was able to say words of concern and empathy and not look like he felt that way at all. “But we have some of the best doctors in Japan here and we will ensure your recovery goes as smoothly as possible.”

  
“Yeah, yeah, great. What about Ryou? His back was all bloody.”

  
“Hm, he suffered a laceration down the length of his spine, not particularly deep but requiring several stitches, no damage to his spinal cord or anything else. He has some minor lacerations and grazes which have been cleaned and bandaged and will heal with no scarring, fairly severe bruising but once again that will clear up easily. Mainly it’s dehydration and malnutrition so he’s on IV fluids and now he’s awake will be monitored to ensure he regains the nutrition he lost.”

  
He just nodded, that didn’t sound too bad at all, but then he knew it wasn’t the physical injuries that were the problem, he’d heal just as Bakura would, if not a damn sight quicker, but nobody would recover from an experience like that overnight.

  
“We’ve got specialised therapists we plan on encouraging him to see, a police officer trained in hostage counselling and a rape survivor therapist who will work together with him as a team. What he needs is time, medications will be prescribed if he needs them and he’ll be given the best support we can offer.”

  
“I can’t see him?”

  
“I’m afraid not, you can’t really go anywhere and if he isn’t willing to come and see you… I’m sorry, but he’s had a very traumatic experience.” Bakura didn’t respond, he didn’t know what to say and nodding made his shoulder hurt so he just blinked and stared in the direction of the window, regarding the uninspiring view. “But you need to recover, so we’ll leave you to rest, don’t hesitate to press the call button if you need anything.”

  
“Thanks,” he knew he should be grateful, but he wasn’t, Ryou didn’t want to speak to him and he’d known that was going to happen but it didn’t make it any less painful.

 

* * *

  
“Hello, Ryou, how are you feeling today?”

  
“A bit sick.”

  
“Yeah?” Her voice was soft and he had the feeling that if he felt better he might like her, hair pulled back into a neat, stumpy ponytail on the back of her head, obviously bleached blonde and in need of re-dying as an inch of black root showed. Her face looked tired but concerned as she paused to regard him, smiling small and soft, trying to work out how to best help him feel better like a good nurse should. “How so? Stomach ache, headache, any dizziness?”

  
“I don’t know, my head hurts, my eyes hurt,” he could have continued and he almost did, because every inch of him seemed to hurt but she didn’t need to know that, his head felt fuzzy and there was a sense of doom covering him like a choking blanket of dust. “I feel kinda heavy.”

  
“Mm-hm, well I’ll increase your morphine a little, that should help, but the heaviness is likely the comedown from the drugs you were given, it can last up to 24 hours but sometimes even longer. It should fade soon though, do you hurt anywhere else? Your back?”

  
“It’s fine.” He kept his voice calm, too quiet really and with none of his usual bubble, although that was understandable and she didn’t mention it, leaving him to wonder what she’d been told, how much of the situation she knew.

  
“Good, good. I bumped into your friends outside, they want to see you, are you sure you won’t see them, just for a few minutes?”

  
“Not yet, maybe tomorrow.”

  
“Alright, that’s fine,” he was lying and they both knew that because he’d been saying the same thing since he first woke up two days ago, but she just smiled and changed the subject, fluffing his pillows behind him and refilling his water glass. “Are you hungry?”

  
“Yeah, I think so.”

  
“Okay, I’ll bring you something, anything you’d like?” The question made sense, it was a private hospital after all, or at least this ward was, and Kaiba was footing the bill, he probably could ask for caviar and get it delivered in different varieties, but right now he didn’t much mind, just wanting to enjoy killing the gnawing in his gut.

  
“I don’t mind, oh, but I’m vegetarian.”

  
“Oh really? So that’s why you didn’t eat the ham sandwich yesterday, you should have told me sooner.” He changed his mind, he did like her, she was warm and soft and smiled reassuringly, scolding him light-heartedly and raising a sheepish smile as she gave his monitor one last check. “I’ll be right back, sweetie.”

 

Somehow he felt worse after she’d gone and he wished he could somehow buzz her back immediately with her grin and concern for him, wished she worked around the clock so when he woke at 3am scared and alone she could be there. He had the feeling she’d tut and dap his forehead clean and tuck him back into bed like a mother might, but then perhaps that was why he liked her, because she reminded him of the mother he’d never really gotten to experience.

  
But then that explained why he didn’t really want her to come back either, because he had enough of people leaving, or people who seemed like they were going to stay only to do the exact opposite.

  
Or maybe he’d been so lonely and scared he’d latched on to the first person to show him the slightest bit of warmth and he was reading way too deeply into all of this, but then it could also be the drugs in his system, he wasn’t sure he minded which was true.

 

* * *

  
“Good morning, you’ve got a visitor if you’re up to seeing anyone?”

  
He didn’t respond, just nodded stiffly and exhaled a painful breath, waving absently at her until she got the message and left, only getting to open the curtains and check his IV’s before she left again with a smile like sunshine and hair like a badger. He supposed she was meant to be nice but he didn’t like her, people weren’t meant to be nice to him after what he’d done, they were meant to be blunt like his doctor or cold like Kaiba, even Joey’s nervousness was better than her chirpy voice and endlessly unnatural happiness.

  
He’d expected Joey, nobody else would visit him after all, Ryou hated him now and with Mariku not only his enemy but also dead there wasn’t anybody else left, realising how distant he’d always kept himself from people and wondering if that was half his problem.

So when Kaiba walked in looking like he’d gotten lost on the way to a business meeting he was both surprised and not sure he was in the mood for another telling off, wondering if he’d finally be scolded for not shooting Mariku where he’d been told to.

  
But instead of initiating conversation he merely nodded a frosty greeting Bakura didn’t see a point in responding to, picking up his chart from the end of his bed and scanning it with blank eyes, flicking through the pages before replacing it and finally sitting down beside the bed. Even the way he crossed his legs spoke of wealth and good upbringing, of training to appear professional at all times, spine perfectly straight and Italian leather shoes shone to a gleam.

  
He didn’t seem very willing to speak considering he was the one who’d visited, just sitting there regarding him silently, eyes tracing along his injuries, the black mottling of his exposed chest and arm, the needle in the back of his hand.

  
Bakura wasn’t exactly tempted to break the silence either, but sitting in silence wasn’t his favourite thing and besides he had things he needed to ask, things that were not the first thought that came to mind. “You named a hospital after your brother?"

  
“Yes.”

  
“Hm, guess you’re not as cold hearted as I thought,” he didn’t respond to that but his hand, perfectly manicured and almost spindly in its thinness, came up to unbutton his shirt and pull off his tie, yanking the starched white loose around his pale throat. “So what happened to Mariku?”

  
“He died as a result of the injuries he sustained.”

  
He spoke like a fucking dictionary but that wasn’t the issue, the issue was that he hadn’t answered the question properly, he had evaded and he had the feeling the truth wasn’t that he’d been left to bleed out as he’d intended. His voice was cold, judging already, assuming what he thought had happened, had, showing his lack of trust in Kaiba even his help carrying this all out, even as he lay right there now because of him. “Your men didn’t mercy kill him?”

  
“They don’t show mercy to scum,” his tone was so cold, so deeply laden with withheld anger that Bakura was surprised, losing his own attitude and stunned into silence again, just pausing and not sure if he felt glad that he’d been left to die slowly, he felt numb everywhere, not just in his strapped down arm. He’d expected to be glad, that he’d had to suffer, to come to his end painfully and unnaturally, to have been removed from the earth by his own two hands, but he couldn’t even feel one of his hands right now let alone feel any kind of glee.

  
“How long did it take?”

  
“Forty-five minutes, he didn’t regain consciousness,” he stood again then, the purpose of his visit utterly baffling as he seemed prepared to leave already, sticking his tie messily into a jacket pocket and Bakura noticing the dark circles under his eyes for the first time. “But that’s not why I’m here, Joey wants to see you.”

  
“Yeah, send him in.”

  
“I will, and-“ He hesitated then, and while that was a perfectly normal thing for any other human to do, for Seto Kaiba it was out of character and Bakura’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, having never heard the CEO so much as stutter before now. “You did the best you could, nobody can say you didn’t.”

  
He didn’t know what to say to that, because he supposed it was true, he’d gone in there, tried his hardest and gotten him out, it was too late but that couldn’t even really be deemed as his fault, just a sad coincidence or some sick trick of fate, to get there a little too late for Ryou to be unhurt. He’d gotten shot, twice in fact, he was basically bed bound and forced to remain where he was until his Hikari deemed it suitable to see him, or until he could crawl home to sleep with the cockroaches, the only ones who would welcome him with open arms.

  
Kaiba just departed and left him alone to stare at the panels of the ceiling and frown to himself, considering expressions of pity for those who had lost, remarks that seemed bitter because trying was worth nothing if it didn’t end in the right result.

 

“Man, you look like shit,” he was trying to be light-hearted, feigning a horrified expression that soon morphed into a wide, care-free grin that didn’t match the puffiness of his eyes, sinking into the chair beside the bed and sprawling across it, legs wide and the opposite of his boyfriends stiff posture. “You’d almost think ya got sho-“

  
“He’s never going to see me, is he?” Joey opened his mouth to answer, then it closed again and he twisted his face into an uncertain expression, shrugging and pretending to be fascinated in the rehab guide he had on the over-bed desk, helping himself to it so he could flick through it.

  
“I dunno man, he’s gotta eventually.”

  
“Well he doesn’t.” He was being stubborn but he’d always been good at it, Joey just regarding him cautiously, wrinkling his lip as if to show his irritation at how childish he was being, how strangely whiny and petulant, deciding without really knowing.

  
It was strange, how suddenly he dropped the pretence that things were fine, discarding the guide on the page with diagrams of stupid stretches he’d have to do day and night, expression as dismal and empty as Bakura felt. “No, he don’t, but he ain’t gunna if you keep actin’ like the hurt party neither.”

  
If he was feeling better he might mock his terrible grasp on the Japanese language, but he understood him well enough and gathered that people were getting sick of his bitching and moaning when he’d hardly had the worst time. He supposed he had always had a way of twisting situations so he was the hurt party, the one who’d been badly done to and who deserved to either punish the guilty party, or to be looked at with sympathy he’d never deserved.

  
“You’re supposed to be nice to people in hospital.” He understood why he wasn’t being, why he’d gotten sick of being nice even as he said it, but he needed to say something and biting, taunting remarks were his speciality, all he knew really, seeing Joey bristle indignantly as he replied without thinking.

  
“Yea, well, it’s kinda your fault you’re here, ain’t it?”

  
He could do anything but smile, because wasn’t that the truth?

 

* * *

  
It was early, or late, depending on how you looked at it, but Bakura couldn’t sleep, beginning to regret not accepting the sedative he’d been offered before he’d been left for the night, wondering if it was worth pressing the call button and asking for one. He just sighed, keeping his eyes closed and trying to be comfortable when he’d been lying in the same position for days now, when he wished he could lie on his side, shoulder aching and still stinging a little to breathe even after his lung was back to normal and the chest tube was out.

  
There was a clock in the room, the kind that ticked obnoxiously loudly, counting the increasing seconds that he didn’t succumb to sleep even as he pleaded to, wishing for unconsciousness more than anything so he wouldn’t have to think.

  
He heard the door swing open quietly, a sound he recognised now, unsure if it would be a nurse come to check on him or somebody else, thinking he may as well ask for the sedative and opening his eyes.

  
The curtains hadn’t been closed properly in the middle and a single, long chink of yellow tinted moonlight cut through the room, landing on soft white and making him pause, wishing he could sit up properly, spring out of bed to walk to his side and ask if he was okay.

  
He was dressed normally, in jeans and one of those plaid shirts he’d always liked, a thick jumper on top and only the collar sticking out, one of his eyes still a little swollen and bruised but otherwise looking like nothing had happened.

  
“Ryou,” he smiled in response, small and a little awkward, walking across the room and eyes flittering across the machines and monitors he was hooked up to, just one tracking his heartrate for some reason he couldn’t quite fathom. He was still attached to two IV’s, the needle in the back of his hand itching but not as bad as it could have been, Ryou’s eyes trailing up them before he sank slowly into the chair beside the bed.

  
“What happened?”

  
“Just collateral damage, I’m fine,” he shook his question off, Ryou didn’t need to know, and besides he was hurt far more than Bakura even if to an observer it looked like the opposite. “What about you?”

  
“I’m okay,” he was almost whispering, voice small and not very believable, especially as he shifted in the chair and winced, settling against the backrest slowly. “I just discharged myself, Kaiba’s sending a car for me in half an hour.”

  
“He’s letting you go home?”

  
“I don’t need to be here anymore. So…” He paused then, nodding absently and looking around the bare room, taking in the water jug on the cabinet beside the bed and the hospital gown flung over the second visitor chair. Silence reigned for a while, made worse by the clocks incessant ticking, reminding them of how awkward this felt, of how Bakura had no idea what to say, what to ask, how Ryou didn’t quite know why he was there. “We were on the news, they called you a hero.”

  
“A hero? They don’t know the full story then.” He wondered how much the story had been watered down for the press, how little they’d left of actual truth when they’d broadcast their faces, spoken with awe of the amazing rescue and capture of a group of known human traffickers. How had they described them both, was Ryou a hardworking student with amazing grades?, because that would only be right. So then who was Bakura now? His friend? Brother? Maybe just a housemate who’d gone out of his way to save the boy who could be his twin, or perhaps he’d been a side line of scrolling text, a brief thanks to the hero who’d taken bullets in the conflict, the unemployed, useless layabout who’d really done his city a service.

  
“No, just Joey and Seto, and the doctors.”

  
“You could get me arrested,” it wasn’t a thought he’d had yet, so why it came spilling out now he didn’t know, but suddenly he realised it was true, Kaiba could hand him over, Joey too, perhaps even Hayashi had known what led them to be in this bizarre situation. “The money’s in my account, it’s proof."

  
“Is that what you want? To go to prison?”

  
“I think a lot of things happened that neither of us wanted.”

  
“Yeah.” But then their eyes met and Ryou couldn’t hold it, looking away and blinking too quickly, remembering everything that had passed between then and swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, changing the subject to easier topics. “Um, when will you get out?”

  
“Not sure yet, not for a couple weeks.”

  
“Mm.”

  
“I- When I do-“ He paused then, not knowing how to ask it almost as much as he didn’t want to know what the answer might be, sensing it wouldn’t be good and feeling fear bubble up into his stomach, Ryou’s mind link just displaying unnervingly calm static. “Can I come home?”

  
“You don’t have anywhere else to go.”

  
That wasn’t an answer, it was pity, or he at least thought it was, “I know, that wasn’t what I was asking.”

  
“Do what you want.” His voice was actually cold now, somehow more familiar even as it hurt, each word pointed and spiking into his collapsed chest to crush it down more, to suffocate his breathing and swamp his lungs with regret.

  
“Isn’t that what caused this in the first place?”

  
“Yeah,” he stood up too fast and the chair scraped along the cold floor, screeching through both their ears and Ryou’s flinch too dramatic to be normal, parting his lips to exhale a shaky breath and calm himself, eyes squeezing shut. “I gotta go, the car’ll be here soon.”

  
He was already halfway out the door when he spoke, Bakura realising only when he turned away from him that he could see bandages poking out the top of his jumper, hair tied into a ponytail and showing the white cotton on his spine as his head tilted. “I can come home then?”

  
“I won’t stop you.”

  
“Do you want to?”

  
“I’m not sure. Maybe. Guess you’ll have to come back and see.”

  
It was all he could hope for, he knew it was more than he deserved, yet sleep still didn’t come easy that night and he almost wished he’d never be discharged so he could lie here in stubborn denial and stupid self-righteousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next upload on the 25th


	27. Chapter 27

Things hadn’t so much as gone downhill as they had plummeted directly into the depths of hell itself, going home stopped being a blessing and became a curse so immediately Bakura almost wanted to stab himself just to give Ryou more time to try and control his emotions. One minute he seemed almost okay, the same as before if not a little, understandably, distant, but the next he was screaming at him or bursting into tears or hiding in his room for days without emerging.

  
He hadn’t been talking to Bakura, other than the aforementioned screaming, they tried their best to ignore each other, Ryou definitely needed space to try and work through what had happened, and Bakura knew that just diving right into apologies and excuses wouldn’t work. So the house was quiet and stilted and sad for days then exploded into screaming and things smashing with such irony Bakura almost felt some kind of reverse nostalgia for the years where he’d been the one losing his mind.

  
Ryou had his therapy, three times a week, one of Kaiba’s less flashy cars came to pick him up and brought him back after a couple of hours each time, Bakura making himself scarce during this because he knew if anything would make him emotional it would be therapy.

 

 

Things straight after he got out of hospital were arranged in his mind like strange flashes of memory or a badly edited home movie, flickering and changing abruptly with each day going by, each change of mood distorting and confusing his own weakened mind.

  
Bakura went to hospital appointments and took up smoking again and sharpened his daggers and it was like nothing had changed until he undressed and saw himself in the full length mirror, skin marred red and wearing his shoulder brace always, black ugly again damaged flesh. But none of it was anything in comparison to Ryou’s pain so he urged himself to shut the fuck up and get over it and didn’t dare complain once even when his rehab left him aching and in so much pain he’d almost rather be shot again. Like Joey had said and everybody else had implied, this was his own fault and he certainly deserved every night he woke up tormented with agonizing cramps or with sweat beading down his chest and his heart pounding.

  
He pretended Ryou ignoring him completely wasn’t unpleasant, pretended he hadn’t noticed him going out of his way to avoid so much as seeing him, almost timing his movements around his schedule so they’d never overlap and meet. Bakura finding himself increasingly desperate as time went by to just get a chance to see him, if not to talk to him and try to explain too, though he knew there was nothing to explain and no excuses that were anything but pathetic.

* * *

 

His ears pricked at the sound of a door opening then closing, and Bakura was in the hallway like a flash of lightning, lingering on the single step down to the bathroom Ryou had presumably been heading into, freezing in place in the doorway as he realized he wasn’t alone. He looked tired, and thin, and paler than he had before all this, hair hanging limp and wispy around his shoulders, only the weekly food order Kaiba had presumably organized for them meaning he ate at all.

  
“Ry,” he tried, but his lookalike just turned to face away from him, staring into the bathroom and acting as if he hadn’t heard him, and perhaps it would be easier, safer, for both of them if they both pretended to neither speak nor hear anything the other said.

  
“Don’t call me that.”

  
“Ryou,” he tried again, voice imploring as he immediately turned on his heel and walked back into his bedroom, giving up on his presumed toilet trip, slamming the door behind him and leaving Bakura to stalk to the newly closed wood to yell through it. “Would you just talk to me? Please?”

  
“Go away Bakura. I don’t want to see you.”

His voice was hard, no ounce of forgiveness or even interest in what he might have to say, he could still sense the Thief in the hallway, stubborn as always. Bakura hated it.

  
“Please, Ryou!” He was practically begging now, him, Bakura, begging Ryou just to talk to him.

  
There was a moment of silence in which Bakura sighed deeply, clenching his jaw dejectedly and shaking his head, about to give up, when Ryou’s door slammed open again and the ball of rage that was his Hikari came barreling out. Another mood change then, though this one was his fault and he told himself that even as the small part of his conscience that still functioned reminded him that this entire thing was his fault and so was even the slightest shift of emotions his Hikari might experience.

  
“How could you do that to me Bakura?! You lied to me!”

  
“I never lied to you! I just-“

  
“Deceived me, tricked me, went behind my back!” Ryou had a million words for what the Thief had done, and each shot into his chest like a hot blade, making him wince and wondering if maybe he should have left things alone for longer, given Ryou time to heal, given the therapy time to work.

  
“I said I’m sorry!” Pathetic, useless, weak. He was plying the guilty party again, acting like somehow he was the one who was being treated unfairly, as if his half-hearted apologies were enough to make Ryou forget every single thing that had happened, every event that was his fault and that he could have prevented if he was a better person.

  
“Well sorry isn’t going to fix it! I’ve forgiven you before, but not this time.” Ryou’s voice had lowered now, quiet and exhausted, another shift, cold apathy to rage snapping suddenly back to reasonable, speaking as if this whole thing was unnecessary, as if he was repeating his words again. “You got me kidnapped. Kidnapped. I could’ve… He could’ve. Do you even know what he did to me?”

  
His voice was shaking and his eyes were watering but hard as marbles as he choked the words out, stumbling on them as if used to silence, remembering those awful, awful days with Mariku, terrified of what he would do next and knowing his chances of being saved were fading away with every second.

“I never meant that to happen, I promise.” Bakura’s eyes were wide and earnest, hands reaching forwards as if to show his innocence somehow, either that or to cling to his broken Hikari as if he’d allow him to so much as breathe the same air, aware Ryou would probably strangle him to death if he got the chance.

  
Ryou just sighed, shaking his head dismissively and throwing his words away as if he hadn’t even tried, as if nothing would ever be good enough and he should just give up and resign himself to the fact that he’d gone too far this time. “Your promises don’t mean anything to me. They never did. Just leave me alone.”

  
“Ryou, that’s a lie and we both know it,” how was he still the one getting annoyed, as if Ryou had no right to lie to him, as if he was being terrible for pretending they hadn’t been doing really great before this, as if they hadn’t finally made each other some kind of happy.

  
“Just fuck off.” His voice was breaking, start of tears audible in the way his voice hitched, biting words delivered so heartbreakingly Bakura couldn’t just let him go, grabbing his sleeve as he tried to pass him and walk down the stairs.

  
He really needed to consider his actions more, because grabbing and essentially trapping him was beyond stupid after he had done, freezing for a split second like a rabbit in the headlights but a million times more traumatized. But then he snapped back to reality and his survival skills kicked in and he tried to get free. Bakura, in all his infinite, non-existent wisdom, prevented this by grabbed his arm firmly and refusing to let him go, even as Ryou’s feet kicked him mercilessly and his other fist shoved at him, panic and alarm growing in his eyes even as Bakura’s patience refused to see sense and listen to his pleas.

  
“Get off me! Just leave me alone!” Ryou sobbed, crying now as he couldn’t get away, trapped again by someone who just used him and didn’t care, pulling away from Bakura so harshly it was all he could do to cling on and avoid the other hands wild, erratic swings at him, “I hate you!”

  
There was a sharp pain as Ryou’s fist finally connected with his face harder than he’d ever have expected. He was almost sure his lip was bleeding, but he barely took it in, frozen, Ryou’s voice echoing in his head.  
“You hate me?” He asked, voice monotonous and distant, but it was barely a question, more a shockingly obvious epiphany that he’d somehow only realized now. Ryou hated him, and of course he did, he had every right to, but somehow it still hurt.

  
“Yeah.”

  
“Hm.” Bakura nodded, sliding down to sit on the floor robotically, licking a bead of blood off his lower lip, and Ryou’s feet carrying him down the stairs and out of sight before he even finished his sentence, degradation hanging heavily in his words. “Me too.”

* * *

  
Getting drunk was just another magical idea from the wonderfully logical brain of Bakura, stumbling into the house and almost falling up the stairs at gone one in the morning, crumpled post-it note he’d torn off the dining room door in his fist and barely able to read it with his bleary vision.

  
‘Staying at a friends.’

  
That was it. No mention of which friend or of why he’d chosen to leave now, or even more confusingly, why he’d left his own house yet let Bakura, a basic leech on him, remain there as if he had any right to be there in the first place.

  
The anger grew slowly, then exploded into a million pieces and he was erupting like a volcano, the mirror he could see himself in smashing, shattering his red-rimmed eyes into a million pieces that crushed into the carpet under his feet which raised to kick at his nightstand.

Somewhere in the rage and exhaustion and drink flowing through his veins, he fell asleep, waking the next day to see Ryou stood in his doorway, silently surveying the mess of the room and just regarding him neutrally, as if he didn’t feel a single thing about him or the damage.

  
“Where’d you go?”

  
“A friends. I did leave a note.”

  
“Yeah, I saw your excuse for a fucking note, was that all you were gunna give me to work with? That you’d gone to some unknown friends? Pretty fucking shitty to do that after everything I did for you.” He knew he needed to shut up, he could see Ryou’s eyes getting harder as he acted like the victim again, like the one who’d done a good deed and been treated unfairly, as if this wasn’t all his fault, like the room was now.”

  
“Yelling at me isn’t going to change anything.”

  
“Well what am I supposed to do? I’ve tried to talk to you, Ryou, a million times, and you won’t even let me say my piece! All I can do is bloody yell at you and hope something might get through to you. And all it’s done is make you angrier! And now I’ve trashed my room in your fucking house and made more work for you. I can’t do any fucking thing right and I’m just making things worse for you.”

  
“You’ve got the money to fix it, don’t you?”

  
That was the last word on the matter, cold and concise, turning away from the shards of glass beside his feet and bedroom door clicking shut silently behind him, Bakura just left to sit there and wonder what he’d thought he wanted the money for in the first place.

* * *

  
After that Ryou started listening to him, or he seemed to listen anyway, Bakura was more certain it was just sitting there silently while he tried to explain, maybe ignoring him completely but finding it easier to remain until he burned out, but sometimes, rarely, he’d reply.

  
“You never...” and here Ryou had to pause to heave a gasping breath as his eyes began to overflow, “you never once, cared about me, did you?”

  
That hurt. “Of course I did!” Bakura began to defend himself, but Ryou cut him off.

  
“No. You didn’t. If you did you wouldn’t have dragged me into any of this... This shit. Or got me kidnapped.”

  
“I didn’t mean that to happen! Any of it.”

  
“That doesn’t matter!” Now he was angry again, but the wet anger that was despair and hurt and pain. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself, you never have!”

  
“I RESCUED YOU!” Bakura was fucking livid, he knew he’d done something really shitty, of course he did, but for Ryou to say he’d never cared? No, that was A grade bullshit and he wasn’t okay with it. “If I didn’t care why would I have rescued you? If I didn’t care I’d have left you there to be…” His words stopped abruptly, images of Ryou as he’d found him filling his mind, making him swallow hard against the pit of disgust that bloomed in his stomach whenever he thought about Mariku’s plans.

  
“Tortured? Beaten? Starved? You’re such a hypocrite you don’t even realize it.” He laughed disbelievingly.

  
“He raped you, Ry! I never... I would never...” Neither of them had said it aloud yet and his shoulders tensed hard as he turned his face away, blinking too fast and Bakura’s stomach flipping unpleasantly even at the idea.

  
“Oh, my apologies, you’re practically a saint then.” Ryou bit back, eyes cold, like stones as he glared at Bakura, the person he had once felt safest with.

  
“Do you want me to leave? Is that it?” Bakura asked, hoping, praying to every God he knew that the answer would be no, but knowing that it wouldn’t be.

  
“Yeah, I do.” Ryou barely paused before answering, taking a shuddering breath afterwards and meeting Bakura’s eyes for the first time in what felt like weeks. The Thief remembered when those eyes used to hold affection, and fondness and laughter, but now they were dead and dark, staring through him as if he wasn’t even a person, saying they couldn’t bear even having to see him.

  
“Then I’ll go.” He stood from the sofa, waiting for a word to stop him, or a soft hand on his sleeve, but none came. He paused before leaving the room, words thick with emotion but shoulders firm and unshaking. “I never wanted to hurt you, Ry, not again.”

  
“Well you did a pretty shit job of protecting me.” The voice came seconds later, and Bakura could tell Ryou was crying again, it was all he seemed to do these days, and somehow it was even worse that the anger, the way he tried to hide it, wiping his eyes with his sleeve and biting out his words.  
Bakura chuckled, but the sound was sad, like everything else in the house these days.

“Yeah, I know.”

* * *

  
Grovelling, begging, pleading, they were all words he’d never associate with himself before this, but now it seemed that they were the only ones he could act out, over and over, ending up doing the same again after a day of yelling and a gash on his face where he’d been unable to duck the vase Ryou flung his way. It always went this way, anger to hurt, shouting and yelling dissolving into desperation so soon he couldn’t even register when he’d made this drastic transition to be an actual decent human who cared about other people.

“Ryou, please, please just give me a second chance. I… I can change! I’ll be better!” And wasn’t that little speech just cliché as hell? Grovelling, like an animal to get something, somebody he never thought he’d need.

  
“I have given you a million chances,” Ryou’s voice was hard and it shook as he spoke, teeth grinding together almost angrily despite the tears that were growing in his eyes. “And you have never, ever changed. Not a single bit. You have lied and pretended until I almost believed that yeah, you might somehow actually care about me. But I am done giving you chances just for you to throw them away, to throw me away. I won’t- I can’t do it anymore, I can’t let you play with me anymore like I’m some kind of toy. This is it, Bakura, you had your last chance, and you fucking blew it.”

  
Bakura’s throat had closed and he felt dizzy, head spinning and pounding like he was concussed again, mouth open uselessly, eyes too sore to even get slightly wet.

  
Ryou shook his head, blinking hot tears out of his eyes and biting at his bottom lip as he tried to stay in control, to stay strong and be faithful to himself for once. “And you know what? This time, I really thought you’d changed, I really believed that you were different. I was fucking happy. Really fucking happy. But you went and ruined everything.” His voice was growing shakier, breaking into actual sobs, eyes slowly leaking and expression bordering on hysterical as his tone rose. “Why?! Why did you have to ruin it?! Everything was so perfect and you destroyed it and I wish more than anything that you hadn’t!”

  
There was nothing he could say, his words were meaningless and empty, apologies and begging and compromise weren’t enough anymore.

  
“We’re done, aren’t we?” His voice had a crushing finality that he couldn’t stand to hear escaping his own lips, unable to stop his bottom lip from shaking like a child as he tried to hold back the desire to crumple to the ground and lie there until the world ended or his heart did, either would be okay with him.

  
There was silence, and that treacherous part of the Thief crept into his mind again, willing Ryou to shake his head, to say that no, they could fix this, that they weren’t over and he didn’t want them to be.

  
“Yeah, we’re done.”

  
Oh, the words were like a shard of ice through his gut, but he felt so cold already he barely noticed it, wiping his eyes dry with a hand that no longer shook and straightening up.

  
“I guess I’ll leave then.” Where he’d go, he had no idea, his home was here, in this house, with Ryou and the humming in the kitchen and the stairs that creaked.

  
“I’ll give you a week to find somewhere and move your stuff, then I never want to see you again.”

  
Bakura nodded, but he barely heard the words, he didn’t have many possessions, probably not even a whole suitcase full, he had the money from Mariku and a significant amount of savings from his drug dealing. He could buy a small, one bedroom studio apartment and furnish it easily. But Ra, he didn’t fucking want to. He wanted to stay here where it was safe and warm and familiar and there was always somebody else to fill the cold space in his chest.

  
He just figured that maybe listening for once, would help things heal themselves. Maybe distance would be the thing that made Ryou realise what he’d be losing, that he’d miss Bakura even though he deserved every bit of hate he felt for him.

* * *

  
“You were meant to be gone three days ago.”

  
He looked up then, he’d known this was coming but he hadn’t even looked for somewhere else to stay until this whole thing was right again, if it ever was, it seemed increasingly like it wasn’t ever going to be okay like it had been before. Ryou had a backbone now and he knew how to use it, knew what to say to make Bakura angry or hurt or whatever, and walking unannounced into his bedroom to repeat that he wanted him to be gone was painful.

  
“I know. But I decided to stay.”

  
“That’s not up to you.” He sighed then, tired of all the arguing, staring at the clock on the desk even though they both knew he’d already been to therapy and had returned quietly, easing the front door shut silently and the first task on his list to remind Bakura to get the fuck out of his house. “Look, if there’s something you want to say, you may as well do it now. It’s your last chance, if you’re not gone tomorrow I’m calling the police and they’ll remove you.”

  
“The police?”

  
“It’s not like you gave me much choice. So, any last words?” Everything he said was so damned cold, so icy and detached that it made his chest hurt already even without him being biting and sharp and to the point as he had been lately. Suddenly words boiled up in him like acid and he was angry as much as he was hurt by this whole thing, because it had all spiralled out of control and nobody believed he hadn’t foreseen this outcome, not even himself.

  
“You made me so weak,” Bakura practically hissed, coming from nowhere and acidic immediately, spitting the words out and fighting the urge to grab his shirt over his heart, throbbing pain almost too much to bear. “I’m useless around you, I… I stop looking for danger and being careful and I’m just… I’m so fucking weak!”

  
Ryou’s nostrils flared, face hard and demeanour cold as he crossed his arms, “then leave me alone and go be strong.”

  
“But it doesn’t work like that!” Bakura cried, arms reaching out to grab Ryou’s shoulders, holding him in place and frowning as he barely reacted other than the slightest, scared flare of his nostrils for a mere second before he could be dead again. “When you were gone… When I was with Kaiba, I was fucking useless. I didn’t know what to do and I was pathetic and completely fucking useless!”

  
Ryou didn’t reply, but Bakura was expecting that, trying to clear his thoughts where they jumbled and tangled in his head, terrified that’d he’d lose Ryou after he just found him.

  
“But when I’m with you I… I’m different.” He didn’t know how to explain it, he looked manic, he knew that, spewing words and with desperate, wide eyes. “I’m not me when I’m with you I-I’m… I’m soft and I’m worried and I’m vulnerable.”

  
“Well I’m sorry, it’s not like I mean to do that.”

  
He didn’t get it, but of course he didn’t, Bakura was hardly explaining it concisely and clearly.  
“I know! It’s just what you do! When I’m with you… I don’t want to be me. I want to be better! I… I want to be worthy of you to… I don’t have to be anything… I don’t have to be tough or ruthless or strong I can just be normal!”

  
There was a long silence, Bakura let his hands unclench from the material of Ryou’s hoodie, listening as his Hikari let out a long breath, not meeting his eyes but staring at the floor of the hallway.

  
“I’m still making you leave.” He turned to leave the room, hand on the door knob and twisting it already as if the door wasn’t as wide open as the Thief was cracking, at least until Bakura grabbed his hand and he had to look back over his shoulder. He looked tired, and weary of the whole thing, and the Thief was too, they just wanted it to be over.

  
“Let me stay, please, Ry.” He was begging, him, the great Thief King of Kul Elna, begging like a slave. It was disgusting.

  
“Why? Why should I let you stay after what you did? Why, Bakura?” His voice was demanding, just as Kaiba’s had been before they rescued him, and he knew. He knew what he needed to say, and it terrified him.

  
“Because I love you!” It spilled out of his mouth like tar, freezing both of them and hanging thick in the air, too real and too solid for either of them to ignore. Bakura felt his heart stop, mouth dry and palms sweating as he waited for the response, waited to see if the one person he had truly loved in his entire life, was still going to force him out. Waited to see if he’d dug his own grave and forced himself to be alone again.

  
Ryou’s face turned to stare at the carpet under his socked feet, head hung and shaking slowly as he let out a scornful breath. “No you don’t, you don’t know how to love.”

  
The words stabbed through him, more painful than a bullet, a knife, than anything he had ever felt before. Plunging straight into his chest and twisting his guts so he felt lightheaded and sick with guilt guilt guilt. Was this how it felt to have your heart broken? He had never wasted time imagining it before, knowing his heart was best kept to himself, it was safer that way, he’d never have to deal with pain and trouble and disappointment. But now it felt like he was shattering into tiny pieces, his lungs were scratched raw and each breath he drew in tore him further apart, rending him useless. His throat burned and he couldn’t swallow around the lump of his Adam’s apple and the wetness of his eyes. And- oh, was he crying? Had his pride fallen so much that he would let himself do something so human? Did he even have pride anymore, or had he sacrificed it all for Ryou?

  
Suddenly he was angry at himself, angry for always hiding behind roughness and insensitivity and walls of thick pride. Too stubborn to say what he wanted, what he felt, so stubborn he might lose the only good thing in his life, the one thing it would kill him to lose. So fuck his pride, and fuck his stubbornness, and fuck everything that wouldn’t get Ryou to stay. Fuck it all.

  
“Then why does it hurt!?” His voice was raw and there was dampness on his cheeks and Ryou was turning round, mouth open in shock as he saw Bakura, pathetic and broken, practically grovelling at his feet, it was pitiful. “Why can’t I just let you go? Why do I have to be so selfish and want you to let me stay?

  
His whole body felt hot and he could barely see through the mist of tears, falling unbidden now and trickling down his chin to dampen his t-shirt. “I have never, never done right by you, I have always fucked things up. I know that! I know but I can’t… I can’t just let you go now it’s… I worked so hard for this and I ruined everything!”

  
“Kura…” Ryou’s voice was soft as he stepped closer, disbelief strong in every pore of his body.

  
“So… So I’m going to do what’s right and I’m… I’m not going to be selfish anymore!” Oh no, what was he saying? “I’m going to leave because… Because that’s what’s fair. I… I only hurt you so… So I should go.”  
No. No no no no no! What was he saying, he didn’t want to go, he wanted to stay more than anything, but if leaving made Ryou happy then maybe he should just go. He wouldn’t be selfish any more.

  
“Bakura you… You’re crying.” He was disbelieving, eyes scanning the Thief’s face over and over, brow furrowed in concern. “You never cry…”

  
“Yeah well, it’s your fault.” He almost snapped, though the tears trickling down his cheeks somewhat ruined the effect, trying to wipe them away with his sleeve uselessly as more just fell.

  
“I… When did you last cry? Before this?” The question came as if from nowhere, surprising the Thief who paused in trying to dry his face.

  
“W-When we rescued you.”

  
“Before that?” Ryou was insistent, only a foot away from Bakura now and eyes shining with curiosity.

  
“Um, when you found me in the garden.”

  
“Before that.”

  
“When- Look, why does it matter, Ryou?” Why was he asking these questions? Why didn’t he just phone the police and kick him out? Bakura had promised to leave him alone, to let him go and be happy by himself, so why was he lingering?

  
“Just answer the question.”

  
“I…” Oh, his memory was blank, not another single episode of crying came to mind, except... “When my village was slaughtered, I guess."

  
“Exactly.” Ryou spoke, eyes saying he’d worked something out, but what exactly? The Thief was confused, he was tired and sad and wanted to curl up in his bed and sleep until he couldn’t feel any more, and here was Ryou, playing mind games and getting him to answer riddles.

  
“Ryou, I don’t under-“ Something clicked in his mind and he paused, sniffling as his nose threatened to drip and realising something. All those times had something in common, when Ryou had rescued him, when Ryou left him in the hospital, and now, when Ryou was going to leave. “It’s you. You’re the thing that makes me cry.”

  
“Yeah,” Ryou nodded, biting his lip. “I’m sorry.”

  
“For what? I’ve made you cry a million times more.” He could remember Ryou crying on numerous occasions, both recent and in their shady past together, pushed to the forefront of his mind.

  
“That’s not how it works!” Ryou’s sudden burst of anger surprised Bakura, blinking moisture out of his eyes rapidly. “Life’s not some game of who hurt who the most. That’s not why I’m sorry! I’m sorry because I’m the only thing that makes you feel anything! I’m sorry because I make you weak and I’m sorry because I wish I didn’t!”

  
“Ry-

  
“No!” Ryou shouted, and now he was crying, hot angry tears running down his face and arms flailing around. “When Mariku took me, I kept thinking, it’ll be okay, Bakura will rescue me, he’ll come for me. But then a week passed and you hadn’t and I,” he paused to gasp in a shaky breath. “I thought you weren’t going to, I thought Mariku had been telling the truth. And I hated you. But- But then you came! And I didn’t know what to think.”

  
Bakura opened his mouth to speak again but Ryou’s voice thundered right over whatever he’d been going to say, wet and broken and so sad and small that it made him feel a million times worse than he already did.  
“Because you left me there. But then, you came back for me! You came back to get me, and nobody had done that before.” He took a deep breath, collecting himself in a way that was horribly final, face unclouded as he spoke again. “You lied to me. You deceived me and you let him take me. But then you came to rescue me. And… I don’t know how I feel.”

  
What could Bakura say to that? It was true, he’d left Ryou in the hands of Mariku for an entire week, indirectly subjected him to hours of cruel and humiliating acts before he finally rescued him.

  
“You have done so many things to hurt me.” The words hurt, but not as much as knowing they were true, not as much as remembering. “But… You’ve done good too. You defended me against my father, and looked after me when I was drunk, and made me feel better when I was upset.” His mind raced, thinking over all the kind things Bakura had done, some only tiny, like doing the washing up, or making sure they were stocked up on Ryou’s favourite drink, trying to protect him from Mariku before England, giving him hugs and kisses and holding his hand. Made him feel wanted and comfortable and safe. But then there was this huge lie, this huge betrayal and his brain was screaming at him to throw him out, to watch him turn away and never come back. But his heart, his stupid treacherous heart wanted him to stay, wanted to cling to Bakura and to never leave, to forgive him as he knew he already half had, and to help rebuild the home they had made together. “If you won’t leave, then I will.”

  
“Please,” He begged, unable to feel any shame as his voice cracked and his eyes filled with hot tears, “don’t go.”

  
Ryou didn’t answer, but he hesitated on the doorstep, taking a deep breath and holding his head high, feet almost bouncing down the stairs and not bothering to look back. The door slamming was painfully loud, and horrifyingly final, like the closing of a book without a happy ending or the static at the end of a film.  
“Don’t leave me here.”

* * *

  
“You came back."

  
“It’s my house. I couldn’t stand to see you anymore.”

  
“But you can now?” That wasn’t the truth and they both knew it, in Ryou’s hand twitching at his side and the way his eyes refused to meet his own, blinking too slowly and dark bags under his eyes so deep he could drown in them.

  
“I’m still waiting for you to get out.”

  
“Ry, what do I have to do? I’ll do anything, anything! Just tell me what you want me to do!” He was pulling at straws now, if Ryou ordered him to get on his knees and lick his shoes clean he doubted he’d even hesitate. He’d sunk so low, but he was willing to go further, to forgo his pride and arrogance, to show how he felt with actions not words.

  
“What I want you to do?” Ryou’s expression had morphed, his eyes were like glaciers, jagged and icy, sending a chill through the house and making Bakura take a step backwards as their glare focused solely on him, burning through him like acid.  
“I want you to suffer, to howl with pain. I want you to go through everything I did. To be trapped in that cold, dark room, not knowing where you are or how long you’ve been there or what fucking day it is. To know nothing but blind terror because you know there is something outside that door that is horrifying and you to know you are completely defenceless. I want you to be there, trying to hide in an empty room. Have to lie there useless and pathetic while he hurts you and runs his disgusting hands all over you and tears you apart from the inside out.” His chest is heaving and his eyes are wild, nostrils wide as he relives the most traumatising experience of his whole life and wishes it upon you and Ra you don’t even think that would be enough to clear you of your sins. “I want you to know that nobody will come for you, that you’ll be stuck there forever. I want you to imagine waking up every morning and seeing the marks on your skin and remembering how they got there and who put them there. Tell me you could forgive them. Tell me you’d be able to forgive them, and pretend it had never happened and hold their hand and cuddle them and kiss them like it had never happened, like they didn’t once slice you open for their own sick pleasure. Tell me you could forgive them.” His words are spat, face twisted spitefully, and almost in disgust as he talks, twisting words that are normally nice into insults that break against your skin leaving thousands of tiny cuts.

  
“I…” Bakura’s mouth opened uselessly, even if he wasn’t trying to be honest, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to answer Ryou’s question any other way, lowering his head as he spoke. “No, I… I couldn’t.”

  
“No. Because it’s unforgiveable. Now imagine you somehow, amazingly manage to. You’ve forgiven them, everything’s going great, you spend all your time together, and you know what? It’s pretty damn close to perfect, closer than you ever thought you’d get. And you trust them, and you feel safe with them, and you feel like they would protect you from anything. And you-“ Ryou’s breath hitches sharply and for a second it sounds like he’s choking, swallowing back angry tears and trying to regain some of the control you had one again snatched away from him. “And you love them.”

  
Bakura’s knees were shaking so hard it was a miracle he didn’t collapse to the ground, chest hollowing like his lungs had been ripped out, choking on Ryou’s words and the meaning behind them and oh fuck he couldn’t breathe…

  
“But then they stab you in the back. And it’s like the first time they hurt you all over again, except now it hurts a hundred times worse, because they have betrayed you.” Ryou’s voice had cracked again, wavering wildly and spiralling out of control as his hands twist into his hair and his face contorts almost maniacally. His words are detached and broken into such small pieces, so spat and thrown out or sobbed that the Thief could barely understand him. “But you still can’t hate them. Beca- Because they’re the only person you have left."

  
Bakura knew what that was like, he had nobody but Ryou either, he had no family, they had perished thousands of years ago, the only friend he’d had was Mariku, and that hadn’t exactly gone swimmingly. He knew Ryou had been abandoned by everyone around him, left alone by his father when his mother and sister died, and dumped by him once more just weeks ago. Nobody wanted him, sending him money and leaving him to fend for himself when he was only sixteen and still a fucking child by all rights. He deserved better than Bakura could give him, that was obvious to anyone, but for a while the Thief had tried to be a replacement for everyone he was missing from his life, and for a while, it had worked.

  
“You… You were the person I went to, when I was lonely, or sad, or whatever. You could always make me feel better. And I want to feel better so bad,” he’s definitely hysterical now, doing that horrible childish crying where it’s hiccups and gasping for air and shaking madly and clawing at his chest. His words are spilling out faster and faster, merging and spilling into each other and coming in stammered, segmented chunks. “So bad, but I can’t go to you because it’s your fault and I’m s-s-so fucking alone that I-I-I-I c-c-can’t a-aand”

  
His chest isn’t working right, Bakura can see it, the hand clenched in his shirt is desperate now and his mouth hangs open as he fights to draw in oxygen, shoulder shuddering as he breathes too much, too fast but somehow not enough, and oh shit he’s having a panic attack, fear plastered on every inch of him.  
“I c-can’t… C-c-an’t b-brrreathe.”

  
He’s gasping for air like he’s drowning and oh god you’ve only seen him do this a couple of times and you have no idea what to do. He’s swaying on his feet like he’s going to pass out but you don’t even know if that’s possible, gripping the wall hard as if it’s the only thing keeping him upright. The fear on his face is too much, it’s scary to see and Bakura would willingly admit he’d seen a lot of terrifying things, but somehow this beats them all.

  
But despite everything that had happened and how his actions had made it seem, Bakura would still do anything to protect his Hikari, the only precious thing he had left in this world, stepping forwards to try and do something, anything to calm him down.

  
“Ry! You need to calm down, okay? You’re panicking,” oh fuck he had no idea what he was doing, he was obviously the wrong person to be doing this and he was afraid that if even he touched Ryou he might stop breathing altogether and faint. “Y-you need to breathe slower, can you breathe slower for me?"

  
Ryou’s eyes locked with his and they were wide and terrified, he almost looked like he was being attacked or on the verge of death, Bakura wasn’t sure he’d been this scared even when he’d been rescued from Mariku.  
Oh bollocks it wasn’t working, Ryou was making unnerving raspy noises now, clawing at his throat so hard red welts came to the surface and a dribble of blood trickled down to mark his hoodie. “Look, breathe with me, okay?” Was this right? It seemed like it might work but Bakura was improvising to a whole new level and just hoped his usual strategy of fake it til you make it would work. “In… and out… Okay? In… and out. Look, give me your hand."

  
Ryou reached his hand across, shaking so violently it took Bakura three attempts to grasp it, pressing it to his heart immediately, making sure he could feel its relatively steady beats and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed slowly and regularly.  
“In... and out. Breathe with me, in… and out. In… and out. Yeah, that’s it. Come on, you’re okay. In… and out. You’re fine, I’m right here. In…. out. In… out."

  
His breathing gradually stabilised, breath still hitching but drawing in enough oxygen to function okay, pulling his hand away from Bakura and stumbling suddenly, grabbing onto the radiator with knees knocking. The Thief didn’t even think before scooping him into his arms, carrying him into the front room and carefully lying him on the sofa, not caring that Ryou probably didn’t want to be anywhere near him right now, he just knew he needed looking after, and who else was there to do it?

* * *

 

He knew he should have checked on him before now, but he needed space and with how much he obviously hated him he didn’t think his panic attack would be soothed by his presence, leaving him, presumably, in his bedroom to rest and recover.  
But he’d heard a noise from the bathroom that was too loud to just be a dropped shampoo bottle and had snapped out of his self-indulgent misery to check on him, taking the stairs two at a time because he shouldn’t have left him alone at all, knocking on the door gently and confused when no voice came even to yell at him.

  
“Ryou? Are you okay I heard a-“ He pushed the door open, surprised it wasn’t locked, then froze in place, eyes widening and mouth hanging open as his words trailed off uselessly. And oh god that smell, he knew he’d recognised it but his brain hadn’t been able to process what it was, at least not until his eyes locked on the yellow bottle, lying on its side on the bathroom floor, strong, chemical scented artificial lemon puddle spilling from it to already stain the bathmat an orange-white where it had been black.  
But of the two things lying haphazardly on the floor, it wasn’t the drained bottle of bleach that drew his eye, it was Ryou. White hair fanned across his face, concealing the sickly pale shade of his skin and the scent of vomit only filling his nostrils as he crept nearer, heart pounding in his ears as his brain refused to work, cogs rusted into place and not spinning even as he knew he had to do something.

  
Then everything began moving again, like a rubber band snapping and he was on his knees, ignoring the vomit that seeped into his sweatpants, lifting Ryou’s head into his lap and slapping his cheeks, trying to get a reaction.

  
“Ryou! Ryou! Can you hear me? Ryou!” But oh fuck he wasn’t responding, unconscious or… but no, he had a pulse, there was warm breath leaving his nose and his chest rose and fell slowly, too slowly. Should he made him throw up? Or would the bleach do even more damage coming back up? Everything was happening too fast and he couldn’t focus, hands scrabbling at his pockets shakily until he reached his phone, typing the number wrong three times before finally punching it in.

  
“Emergency services, which service do you need?”

  
“A-ambulance.” The hospital, he needed a hospital now, right now, needed his stomach emptying and the bleach that was burning his insides removed, needed help that Bakura just couldn’t give. He waited what felt like hours while the line connected, barely listening to the man on the other end before beginning to speak. “My- My roommate, he... Oh shit, he drank bleach.”

  
“Okay, do you know how much he ingested?"

  
His hand grabbed for the bottle, blood running cold as he shook it and silence met his ears, “I… I don’t know, the bottle’s empty.”  
“Is he conscious?”

  
“No… He isn’t responding. He, he’s thrown up a bit. I… I just need an ambulance, I’m at 3147 Odayakana Road.”

  
“I’m dispatching one now, it should be there soon. If he wakes up before it arrives try to make him drink some milk, okay Sir?”

  
“Yeah. Good. Right.” He hung up abruptly, cradling Ryou’s head in his lap and trying to fight back the urge to be sick himself, the smell was making him dizzy and lightheaded, how Ryou had managed to drink what looked like at least half a bottle was a mystery to him. He couldn’t register it yet, too in shock to realise what this meant, Ryou had tried to kill himself, had gone to the bathroom and deliberately drank bleach, knowing it was toxic, having seen the signs on the bottle, the skull and the warning not to ingest it, and done it anyway.

  
Ryou’s breathing was slowing when sirens finally sounded and blue flashing lights shone through the open front door all the way up the stairs and into the bathroom. Bakura didn’t move until he was forcedly pulled out of the room and into the hall, team of high visibility jacket wearing men and women seeming to flood the house, talking in efficient, calm voices as they pulled Ryou on to a stretcher. Someone was talking to him, lips moving and a hand on his shoulder, but he couldn’t hear anything over the horrible silence he could hear in his ears, not from him, but from Ryou’s mind link. He felt like something inside him had died even as he was led down the stairs and sat in the back of the ambulance next to the stretcher, sirens sounding underwater and distant even as they screamed. He wondered if this was how Ryou had felt, all that time ago, in the ambulance with him when he’d been stabbed after a deal had gone wrong. Sound rose in waves of panic and snippets of medical jargon he barely understood.

  
“Heart rate 45 over 30 and dropping.”

  
“He’s in cardiac arrest. Starting CPR.”

  
There was a mask over his mouth and linked hands pressing hard into his chest, trying to get his heart started again even as the ambulance stopped and suddenly everything was a flurry of movement again and he was stumbling down a harshly lit corridor after the gurney.

  
“Stomach pump.”

  
“We’ll need to intubate.”

  
There were machines beeping and needles poking through blue veins that shouldn’t be so visible and a long tube snaking up his nose and some liquid being syringed down it, rolling him onto his side in a coordinated, practiced movement but all Bakura could see was how white his hands were. Then there were bodies blocking his view and his whole body went tense until he could see him again, the syringe was full and emptied into a kidney dish, again and again sucking the contents of his stomach up the tube and out. Taking out the bleach but oh god was that blood coming up too? He didn’t even realise he felt dizzy until he tried to stand, unable to watch anymore, staggering towards the door, almost making it out before everything turned black and he felt the impact of hitting the ground.


	28. Chapter 28

Bakura was a light sleeper, he always had been, he supposed being a highly wanted Thief with a bounty several times higher than he believed necessary on his head had something to do with it. So he was awake and alert the moment footsteps paused outside his door, and was tensed, hand round the blade under his pillow and ready to strike by the time the door swung open. He didn’t even know who he thought it might be, the house was locked, he’d made sure himself, as he did every night after a last cigarette in the back garden, and he had no enemies anymore, so when he recognised the head of white hair, he immediately closed his eyes. If Ryou knew he was awake, it was extremely unlikely he would do anything but leave, and Bakura would do anything to be near him again, even if it meant he had to feign sleep just to be in the same room as him. But just listening and not being certain what was going on was infuriating, not to mention a little unnerving, he knew Ryou wasn’t the type for revenge, but he honestly wouldn’t blame him if he just stabbed a kitchen knife into him while he slept.

Or into himself, but he was sick of thinking like that, remembering pale cheeks and the still repulsive stench of bleach with a churn of his stomach.

But the sound of a soft sigh, shaky and uncertain and the unmistakable noise of Ryou moving to sit on the floor were easy enough to discern, and Bakura knew where he had settled. If he opened his eyes he’d see his Hikari, curled up against the wardrobe, opposite the smashed mirror he’d never bothered to replace, but where his eyes were focused he wasn’t sure. Was he staring at his own shattered reflection in the ruined glass, or at Bakura’s seemingly peaceful form lying on his bed, hair messy on his pillows and bare legs tangled in the sheets?

He wondered if he was staring at his exposed skin, the first time he’d seen it since England all those weeks ago, confused at the new marks that littered his torso and arms, small round burns curling up his forearms and hiding his blue veins. His chest still marked where Mariku’s bullet had burned a hole through him, he’d taken off the brace he had to wear during the day, hanging it up over his bedpost and hoping his shoulder would throb less the next day, wearing it just reminded him of how weak he was. His rehab exercise routine was hidden away in his bedside table drawer, waking every day to repeat the same basic movements and stretches and trying to ignore the voice of the Doctor who told him he may never recover from the nerve damage that made his left hand numb.

But what did it matter what he was looking at? He’d made it clear he wasn’t letting Bakura anywhere near him again, he was probably just getting one last look before he left, or he’d been right and a knife to the gut was what would break the silence. Maybe he was ready to yell and scream at Bakura for saving him again, for calling him the ambulance and getting him stuck with more therapy and drugs that made his brain feel like cotton wool.

“I know you’re awake.” Ryou’s voice was soft, but it still made Bakura’s breath stop for a second, stuttering in his throat and tensing his muscles in shock he wasn’t accustomed to feeling. But then, Ryou had always been able to take him by surprise.

“I guess I can stop pretending then.” He replied calmly, finally allowing himself to open his eyes, turning onto his side and unable to hide a hiss of pain as his shoulder twisted under his weight. Chocolate brown eyes narrowed and Ryou’s eyes shot to the visible mark on his shoulder, still not fully healed, the stitches having only been removed a couple of days ago and skin just beginning to knit back together.

“What happened?” He made no move to come closer, staying where he sat, as Bakura had guessed, leaning against the wardrobe, knees drawn up under his chin and arms wrapped around them. He didn't know why he'd ask, a bullet hole was nothing compared to what Ryou had tried to do, had almost succeeded in doing, it was nothing in comparison to spitting blood for days and being so pale and sickly it had been hard to even look at him.

“I fell out of bed.” He deadpanned, teasing expression softening as Ryou actually smiled, it was small and almost nostalgic, but it was the first sign of happiness he’d seen on his Hikari’s face for so long and it would do for now. But he knew he had to answer honestly, moving til he sat on the edge of his bed, scratching at his chest absently. “I got shot.”

His words broke the moment, and he knew they were both thinking of a time where things had been just as fucked up as they were, Bakura, coming down for coffee with a bloody bandage wrapped around his middle, a not quite dodged stab wound. Lied and said he’d fallen out of bed when Ryou had asked. It would almost be funny if Bakura didn’t remember what had followed after, and he shivered to remember it, blaming it on the cold of the room.

“It was stabbed last time.” He didn’t even respond to the news that Bakura had been shot, and that spoke serious fucking volumes about who they both were and what they had been through.

“I’m moving up in the world.” Bakura’s voice was casual, joking, but somehow detached, he knew there was no point trying any more, and that echoed in everything he said, how calm and composed he was managing to be. He couldn’t help but feel that he should still be trying to win Ryou back, but it had been too long now, Ryou wasn’t going to change his mind, and the Thief couldn’t take back everything that had happened.

“What about your arm?” Ryou’s eyes flitted across the marked skin, landing for a second on each perfect, round burn before moving on to the next, face impassive but the twitch of his lip gave him away as his face frowned for a second before returning to its expressionless gaze.

“I was clumsy with my cigarettes.” He answered shortly, almost coldly, tone warning him to back off and stop asking even though he knew the probability of that actually happening was close to zero now the threat of actual violence had been removed.

“Bakura, don’t lie to me.”

And like that wasn’t a stab right in the Thief’s gut, now he’d gone and done something else to upset Ryou, it seemed lately like that was all he was good for. “Alright, so they might have been deliberate, but at least I’m not hurting anyone else for once!” His voice had risen, shattering the quiet, almost peaceful atmosphere they had been in and letting the arguments and crying and tearful pleading flood in to wash them away uselessly on the wave of emotions.

He didn’t respond, and Bakura knew he’d crossed a line they’d both silently built the moment he’d awoken to find Ryou in his room, the conversation may as well end now, whatever Ryou had wanted with him wasn’t important anymore, not when there was so much between them.

“Does it hurt?”

Crimson eyes met brown for the first time in what felt like forever and Bakura’s stupid, treacherous heart had the nerve to flutter like some lovesick schoolchild looking at their crush from across the playground. His face settled into a look of derision, harsher than he intended but he could hide his true emotions behind it and that was definitely a bonus. “That’s kind of the point.”

“Haven’t you been through enough? What’s the point in hurting yourself when-“

 _Hypocrite,_ his mind supplied the word he wasn’t brave enough to say, surprised that Ryou had been discharged then come straight home, never mind into his room to have a conversation with him after what he’d seemingly driven him to. But even when he’d awoken in the hospital bed he’d pretended nothing had happened so perhaps Bakura should do, “what do you want, Ryou?” The Thief practically snapped, sick and tired of edging around everything and acting like he was walking on eggshells, fuck that, he wanted answers now. If Ryou wanted him gone, he’d be gone by the next morning, he just needed to know so he could get on with his miserable fucking life.

He didn’t even blink, just shaking his head minutely as if the Thief had asked a stupid question. “I want the same as you.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.” Bakura actually scoffed, “you don’t wan-“

But now it was his turn to be cut off, and instead of being annoyed as he would usually be, his ears peaked as Ryou spoke, tone exasperated and almost rehearsed, like he’d been through this in his head over and over.

“I want everything to go back to the way it was, I want to be able to climb into your bed without even thinking about it. But I can’t. I’m stuck, sat here on your floor. And I know how easy it would be to make everything right again, all I have to do is forgive you or say I’m willing to try and you’d be right there.”

The Thief swallowed, he wasn’t sure he could listen to this again, Ryou still didn’t know what he wanted and Bakura didn’t know if he could stick around to find out when it probably wouldn’t end well for him.

“You know I love you, right?” His voice was a whisper but it sounded like a scream in the silent house, the early hours accepting his feelings with their usual silent sympathy even as Ryou adjusted himself on the carpeted floor, tucking his legs under himself.

He nodded slowly, playing with a loose thread on his pyjama bottoms and refusing to look at the Thief as he answered, voice heavy, like it came from a man twice his age, worn with age and time. “I know, that’s what makes it so hard. That’s why I-“

Bakura squeezed his eyes shut, head in his hands and hiding behind a curtain of unwashed white hair, trying to pretend like this wasn’t killing him was so difficult when he had to be surrounded by it constantly. But still, Ryou hadn’t left his room, or his side, yet, and wasn’t that something to find hope in?

Their silence was almost companionable, just being able to hear somebody breathing in the same space calmed him, he could feel his stiff shoulders relaxing and the tension in the base of his spine unwound as Ryou’s breaths grew deeper and he fell asleep.

He looked uncomfortable, leaning against the hard wood of the wardrobe like that, and Bakura didn’t want to leave him like that and risk him having horrific cramp the next day, he knew what that felt like all too well. Ignoring the Doctors instructions regarding heavy lifting, and really, Ryou had never been that heavy anyway, he carefully lifted him up, arm hooked under his knees and one round his neck. Carrying him the short distance to his bed did nothing more than send a slight twinge up his injured arm, ignoring the pain to make sure he put him down gently so he wouldn’t wake, settling his head on the pillow and pulling the duvet up to his chin, tucking it in around his sides the way he knew he liked.

What he hadn’t considered, was where he was now going to sleep, deciding the sofa was the best option, if Ryou wasn’t feeling quite as… reasonable in the morning, he might freak out upon discovering the Thief in his bed. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he allowed himself a moment to watch Ryou’s sleeping face, hand reaching forwards to brush hair out his eyes instinctively and making him internally curse himself for his lack of self-control. He was in the motion of pulling back and leaving the room, telling himself not to get his hopes up again, when smaller fingers latched onto his.

“Bakura?” The voice was hesitant as it spoke, brown eyes deeper than he remembered, sucking him in and making his mouth go dry.

“Yeah?” The strange atmosphere was back again, sucking all the air out the room and making him whisper for no reason other than it would feel wrong to be any louder, turning his body back towards his Hikari. Ra, he looked cute, bundled up in his bed, and he couldn’t hide a fond smile as he let his glance drop down to their hands, still linked messily resting on the edge of the mattress as he squatted down so they were at equal eye level.

Ryou paused, pink lips open silently as his tongue darted out to wet them, looking like he was debating whether to speak, eventually shaking his head and smiling disarmingly. “Never mind, it’s not important.”

Bakura highly doubted that, but he decided to stay silent for now, learning when to hold his tongue came slowly, but he was getting better. “Get some sleep, we can talk in the morning,” his fingers squeezed around Ryou’s as he spoke, accepting the nod he got in return for his words and leaving the room, not looking back lest he be turned into a pillar of salt.

 

* * *

 

 

“You hungry?”

“I just came to get a coffee,” Bakura explained, feeling mildly uncomfortable at just how awkward they were around each other now, standing in the doorway fidgeting his socked feet against the slippery wooden floor.

“That’s not what I asked. Are you hungry?”

His tone was firm and the Thief stammered on his answer, “um, y-yeah, a bit.”

“Sit down, I bought steak.”

Bakura followed his instruction, sliding into his chair at the table with eyes narrowed in suspicion, watching Ryou’s actions carefully as he removed a plastic wrapped cut of meat from the fridge and dropped it into an already sizzling hot pan. “You hate steak.”

Ryou shot him a cursory look before turning away to grind salt and pepper into the pan, smell of frying meat filling the air deliciously. “Yeah, but you don’t.”

He blinked at Ryou’s reply, not entirely certain what it implied. Had Ryou deliberately bought steak for Bakura despite him not liking it himself? Because that really didn’t seem like something he would do considering they still weren’t exactly friends or even speaking to each other most of the time except to argue or hurl accusations around. But if Ryou was doing this as some sort of peacekeeping offer, he certainly wouldn’t say anything about it, just giving his steak a customary prod with a curious finger after quietly thanking Ryou.

“It’s not poisoned, you’re safe.” He sounded like he was joking, but Bakura was ashamed to admit he had been suitably cautious about the whole situation and the mere mention of poison had his brain spiralling back to two months ago and that horrible night and the fact that he still refused to let Ryou be near any chemicals, wary even with the washing up liquid.

“Would you tell me if it was?”

His Hikari paused, lips jutting out in a thoughtful pout before he smiled and shrugged one shoulder casually, “probably not. Guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

There it was again, that one thing it always revolved back to, trust. Ryou’s total lack of it in Bakura and Bakura’s inability to feel it for anyone else but Ryou.

But Bakura did trust Ryou, with his life, tearing a chunk off the steak with little thought and allowing the rich juices to fill his mouth, metallic taste lingering where Ryou had cooked it rare for him, exactly how he’d always liked it.

“How is it?” Ryou asked, pouring water from the kettle into his mug and letting the smell of peaches cut through the sharp tang of meat juices, dumping the teabag in the bin with practiced ease and sliding into his seat opposite Bakura.

“Good. You not eating?” He asked, regarding Ryou’s bizarre lack of food with a raised eyebrow, gesturing with his knife towards the empty table space opposite him where a matching plate should surely rest.

He shook his head, taking a sip of his steaming hot tea, eyes sliding shut as he inhaled the fruity smell deeply, shoulders relaxing and a contented expression coming to rest on his face. “I wanted to talk to you, and I figured steak was the best way to shut you up.”

The Thief opened his mouth to object, but soon shut it again with a shrug as he realised Ryou was completely right, as usual, deigning to remain silent and let Ryou have the chance to say what he wanted, hoping it wouldn’t crash into another battle of yelling each other’s faults.

His Hikari’s fingers didn’t move from where they wrapped around his mug, turning pink from the heat and fingernails stroking the china slowly while he seemingly gathered himself, shaking his head decisively and straightening up in his chair.

His steak might only have been half finished, but Bakura’s mouth was empty and he had no desire to eat any more, stomach churning uncomfortably as he watched Ryou’s chest rise and fall deeply, taking a fortifying breath.

“I-I’ve been thinking, about what we’re going to do. And… And about where you’re going to go.” He paused, and Bakura’s stomach fell out the bottom of his feet, flopping round uselessly on the kitchen floor, dirtying it with blood and thick, acidic bile that made his eyes feel hot. Dread seeped through him and his body felt a million times heavier, sweat breaking out on his back and a sort of panic rendering him unable to do anything but dig his fingernails into his thigh under the table. “I told you to leave, but…”

But he was still here, still lingering, still taking up space in Ryou’s home, still being a burden even now, reminding Ryou of everything that had happened and only making it rawer for him.

“But I don’t want you to. I… I want you to stay.”

The sound of Bakura’s fork hitting the plate rang loudly through the room which felt suddenly like a vacuum, sucking the air out of his lungs and making his eyes bulge wide and shocked, tongue drying instantly in his gaping mouth.

“You… You what?” He felt like he was croaking, nails digging red welts into his thigh but barely feeling it, buried under a layer of shock and that always faint niggling hope in his mind began to swell and spill over and his face wanted to smile but he couldn’t summon the muscles to do it, staring blankly.

“I’m not saying I’ve forgiven you, or that I’m okay with what you did. I… That’s not so easy to do but…” He sighed, eyes lingering on the Thief’s hand where it rested limply on the table, discarded fork forgotten about and his steak congealing, bloody flesh turning brown as it oxidised. “Just… Don’t go.”

“O-Of course… I… I’ll be here as long as you want me to be.” He’d stay by his side forever if he could, in this house, eating meals together and watching crappy films and having stupid tiny disagreements over the most idiotic things. As long as they always made up again, as long as Ryou was there, he would be too.

“You were so worried, in the hospital after I- I did what I did. You rescued me again. I don’t really know what I’d do, if you left.” The admission was soft, almost embarrassed as Ryou’s cheeks flushed a pale pink, smile focused on Bakura and eyes damp.

He stood up so suddenly Ryou flinched, plate tumbling off the table to smash on the ground, shards of pottery and barely cooked meat ignored, that could wait til later.

His arms were around Ryou and there was a moment’s hesitation before hands were gripping into his hoodie and Ryou’s head was nestled next in his neck and his nose was in thick white hair, still soft, almost fluffy and sweetly vanilla scented when he took a deep inhale. He was probably holding him too hard, but the fists against his back were tight and firm, and it just felt so good to have Ryou back with him again, to be able to hold him like this and surround himself with him.

“Thank you.” It was mumbled into white hair, his hands solid and warm and real against Ryou’s back. “I won’t fuck it up this time.”

Ryou’s laugh was a warm exhale against his pulse point, and how had the Thief forgotten how warm he always was? His smile, and his eyes and his hands radiated heat that could warm even the frostiest heart, wasn’t Bakura himself proof enough of that?

“Thank you, too.”

Bakura’s smile faltered, moving back so he could see Ryou’s face, eyes dry now and expression earnest as he looked up at him. “What for?” What on Ra’s good earth could Ryou possible be thanking him for? Surely he’d done nothing but bad.

“For not giving up, for coming for me. I mean… You could have just left me there.” Ryou’s mouth twitched as he spoke, and Bakura’s frown deepened, just the idea of leaving his Hikari with Mariku was enough to disgust him.

“I don’t know if you noticed,” his hands played absently with Ryou’s hair, always smoother, silkier than his despite their similar appearances, trying to distract himself from his words, distancing himself, as always, from his feelings. “But I was really fucking miserable without you.”

“I know,” Ryou’s voice was small and sad, and Bakura knew they still had so much to fix. “Me too.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m going to bed.” Ryou spoke, and if his head had fallen to rest on Bakura’s lap sometime during the film, neither mentioned it, ignored too, were the Thief’s fingers, which had been lazily running through the strands. He stood up, stretching out his back and revealing a strip of pale stomach, bruises long since healed but still scratched and torn, it made Bakura wince, looking away, not sure what to say. “You coming?”

The Thief’s eyes darted up, no longer focusing on the film and instead at his Hikari, who hovered in the doorway, bandaged hand resting on the frame and an almost embarrassed look on his face as his socked foot toed at the carpet. That answered all the questions that had been running through his head since Ryou had announced his departure only seconds ago, he guessed that meant they were back to sleeping together. He had to admit, he’d missed the presence of another warm body beside his, and, loathe to admit it though he was, it seemed he wasn’t entirely opposed to cuddling, in fact, he was disgustingly fond of it.

Ryou’s eyebrow was raised expectantly while he waited for an answer, face growing more uncertain as he hovered awkwardly, neither in the room nor out.

“Mm, in a minute, there’s something I want to do quickly first.” He tried to offer a reassuring smile and was relieved when Ryou’s face relaxed, nodding before leaving the room, soft footfalls disappearing on the stairs. He sank back into the sofa, letting a heavy sigh escape his lungs and dragging one hand over his eyes and through his hair, gazing up at the ceiling for a moment. Then, when he was certain Ryou was gone and out of earshot, distant sound of running water implying he was brushing his teeth, he pulled out his phone, dialled a number and held it to his ear, waiting for the tinny ringing to end and somebody to pick up.

“Bakura?” There was the sound of shifting and what sounded like sheets rustling and the Thief’s eyes flicked to the clock. It was after 1am, whoops. “What happened? Is everything okay?”

“I think Ryou took me back.” His voice halted as he spoke, not entirely sure how to word what had happened, he hadn’t been forgiven, but they were seemingly back the way they were, in the strange place between friends and being in a relationship.

There was silence for a moment, then there were more noises, footsteps maybe, and a door swinging shut. “Seriously? What happened?”

Bakura stood up, heading through the house to the kitchen where he removed his cigarettes and lighter from the fruit bowl, shutting the back door quietly behind him.

“Well,” he paused, mouth full of filter as he lit the cigarette, lighter roaring into life and clicking as he flicked the gold lid shut, extinguishing the flames and letting the nicotine coursing through his body re-arrange the mangled words in his brain. “We were talking, and he just kinda said he didn’t want me to leave.”

“Aha,” Joey’s voice was tired sounding, maybe Bakura had woken him, Brooklyn accent somehow even stronger, almost grating down the line.

“And… I dunno, we’re just… Back the way we were before. Like nothing’s happened.” His eyes focused on the cigarette in his hand, glancing up at the house to see the bathroom light flick off, leaving the building dark like the others around it.

“Thass good right?” Joey’s voice was definite, and Bakura couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah, it’s good.” He breathed, exhaling smoke and inhaling frosty air, Christmas was in the air, just around the corner and it was freezing, frost would no doubt speckle the ground in the morning.

“Just a warnin’, if you hurt him again I’ll kill ya.”

Bakura chuckled at that, cold air burning his lungs on the way down, grinding out his barely smoked cigarette on the ground and gazing at the light polluted sky, wondering how many stars hid under it. “I don’t intend to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this how I intended this to end? Not entirely, no  
> Do I care any more? No, not really  
> (Please just take it I'm so tired of looking at this being unfinished)
> 
> But I hope you're all satisfied with this happy ending! I was tempted to do a No.6 style ending but after writing all of the above I didn't much want to delete it and start again, and I am always a sap for a happy ending! So thanks for sticking with me all this time (and sorry it took so long, like damn). This is my last foray into the Yu-Gi-Oh! fandom, but I've still got fond feelings for the fandom and characters, and this story is great proof to me how I've grown as a writer.  
> Sincerely, thank you if you've read this and stuck by me through it ❤️
> 
> Find me - vkus-no.tumblr.com


End file.
